Lesson 1289 – Lord of the flies part 2

Apparently after (almost) 25 years of marriage (September), Marc and I are still learning things about each other.

I recently posted about our fly traps saying that it was one thing that I just COULD NOT stand. Nope, you’ll never find me emptying one of those jars full of fly-beans.

Marc read my post and at the dinner table he questioned me about it.

“Are you really disgusted by the fly traps?” he asked me.

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Lesson 1288 – Where the friggin’ eggs are

In a continuation of the ever popular game – “where are the friggin’ eggs?” – yesterday I spied an egg by a leg of our rabbit hutch.

“Sweetheart, go grab that egg,” I told Emma. Emma dutifully went over to gather the egg, but when she got there she stopped and turned to me.

“Uh, mom, I think you should see this.”

I got up from my chair and walked over preparing myself to see a strange egg or even worse, some kind of creature trying to eat the egg. SNAKE!!!!

Lesson 1285 – Why did the chicken cross the road?

The other day I was in the front yard with some of my chickens and quite by luck I was able to catch this video of one of our girls.

Here it is – definitive proof of why the chicken crossed the road.

Obviously it was to get to the other side.

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Wendy Thomas writes about the lessons learned while raising children and chickens in New Hampshire. Contact her at Wendy@SimpleThrift.com

Also, join me on Facebook to find out more about the flock (children and chickens) and see some pretty funny chicken jokes, photos of tiny houses, and even a recipe or two.

Like what you read here? Consider subscribing to this blog so that you’ll never miss a post. And feel free to share with those who may need a little chicken love.

Lesson 1284 – Larry, Daryl and Daryl

Many of us who are of a certain age remember watching the Newhart show (the one at the inn.) One of the funniest gags that ran throughout that show was when Larry, Darryl and his other brother Darryl, the three backwoods bumpkin brothers entered the room and announced themselves.

No matter how many times that line was said, it always caused a chuckle because it was so silly. Who gives their kids the same name?

This spring we got 4 chicks to add to our flock – two of 2 different breeds so that we had balance. One died. (She happened to be a runt and just didn’t grow.) The remaining 3 grew strong and have matured into fine adolescents.

But they’re a little unbalanced now. We have two white birds (that we’ll never be able to tell apart) and our single New Hampshire Red.

True to chick behavior, these guys go *everywhere* together. Like Frick and Frack, if you see one, you’ll soon see the other two nearby.

“Are we ever going to name those chicks?” My daughter asked this weekend.

I looked at the chicks, best of buddies and I replied, “Sure thing, we’re going to call them Frick, Frick, and Frack.”

My daughter looked at me with her largest “huh?” eyes. Who gives their chicks the same name? After a beat or two when the absurdity finally sunk in, she laughed.

I’m telling you, it never gets old.

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Wendy Thomas writes about the lessons learned while raising children and chickens in New Hampshire. Contact her at Wendy@SimpleThrift.com

Also, join me on Facebook to find out more about the flock (children and chickens) and see some pretty funny chicken jokes, photos of tiny houses, and even a recipe or two.

Like what you read here? Consider subscribing to this blog so that you’ll never miss a post. And feel free to share with those who may need a little chicken love.

Lesson 1283 – Lord of the flies

I’ll put it out there right now. With regard to flies, I’m a wimp.

I can handle chicken surgery, chicken blood, chicken poop, heck, I can even handle culling a chicken, but I CAN NOT handle this.

If you are quiet, you can actually hear them buzz from inside.

A large jar filled with baked-bean-flies.

You can clean your coop all you want, you can mix things into the bedding, but if you are going to have chickens, you are going to have flies. Especially if you let them free range – poop and flies just happen.

We have found the best solution is these disgusting fly traps. You mix a God-awful solution and place it in the jar. The flies, attracted to the smell (and yes, it reeks don’t put them near the eating area) enter the chamber and then can’t find their way back out. Eventually they either die from drowning or exhaustion. It’s a very effective (and disgusting) solution.

During our worst summer with flies (I think it was 3 years ago) we were filling two of these jars a week. Yup, each week Marc would take the full jars out to the woods, dig a hole and then empty the – what he called “black baked beans with wings” into the hole and then covered them over.

This summer we’ve had enough flies to get out the traps again. I think in part it’s because of all the rain we’ve had. Regardless, they’re back in our lives (and in my nightmares.)

Once again it will be Marc emptying the traps, because even after dealing with chicken problem and after having 6 kids with all their puking and pooping, I’m still not seasoned enough to deal with the bucket-o-flies.

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Wendy Thomas writes about the lessons learned while raising children and chickens in New Hampshire. Contact her at Wendy@SimpleThrift.com

Also, join me on Facebook to find out more about the flock (children and chickens) and see some pretty funny chicken jokes, photos of tiny houses, and even a recipe or two.

Like what you read here? Consider subscribing to this blog so that you’ll never miss a post. And feel free to share with those who may need a little chicken love.

Lesson 1282 – Puddles of sunshine

No, this is not a chicken that has been attacked by one of our neighborhood hawks.

It’s not an injured chicken and it’s not a dying chicken.

It’s a very smart chicken who is out in the yard taking a dirt bath in a puddle of sun while she can.

We’ve had a lot of wet weather lately, showers, storms, and even tornado warnings.

Lesson 1280 – Worrying about the chicks

Well that was easy.

I admit it, I’m still traumatized by my little Violet who, her first night in the coop panicked and wedged herself into a cinder block to get away from the flock. The flock ended up pecking (ripping) her butt away and little Violet died.

Talk about guilt. She was one of the sweetest little birds I’d ever had. I still get great heart sorrow thinking about her.

Which is why I now wait, wait, wait to integrate new chicks into our flock. They have to be big, they have to be strong. They have to be able to get away.

So I’ve waited, and waited. Long after I should have, they were still being kept separate.

We had started to let them mingle with the hens during the day, but every night we’d put them back into their own pen.

Safe. Safe. Always safe.

“Should we mix them in with the others?” My kids kept asking me.

Not yet.

But, this weekend, I finally took a deep breath and put our 3 chicks in the coop at night.

The next morning I hesitated. I didn’t want to go out and check on them. Sometimes chickens can be so cruel to each other. But after my second cup of coffee, there were no more excuses. I went to the coop only to discover….

That nothing had happened. Absolutely nothing.

The chicks were fine. The flock hadn’t attacked them.

In fact they were all getting along.

All is well.

I had done all that worrying for nothing. How silly of me. I promise you the next integration time, I’ll try not to worry. Not even a tiny bit.

That is at least until*my* chicks need to re-integrate into the flock called college this September.

Then, this mama hen will resume worrying about her chicks. At least just a tiny bit.

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Wendy Thomas writes about the lessons learned while raising children and chickens in New Hampshire. Contact her at Wendy@SimpleThrift.com

Also, join me on Facebook to find out more about the flock (children and chickens) and see some pretty funny chicken jokes, photos of tiny houses, and even a recipe or two.

Like what you read here? Consider subscribing to this blog so that you’ll never miss a post. And feel free to share with those who may need a little chicken love.

Lesson 1279 – She’s baaaaaaaack!

Many people have been asking me about Rudd (and my son told me to tell you how it’s pronounced because he said some of his friends are saying it wrong.)

Rudd is not pronounced “Rud” (like mud) it’s pronounce “Rude” (as in “how rude!”) This, of course, opens us up to all kinds of clever jokes like:

How’d you get to be so ruuuuuudd? (lyrics from a popular song)

Don’t be Rudd! – what we say to a chicken now when she’s acting a little off.

And of course –

Lesson 1273 – Rudd update

I know that many of you are concerned about Rudd. Here is a picture of her taken just this morning. Her neck wound is dry and it looks like the skin is starting to close up a bit. Her comb had turned grey after the attack and it is now starting to pink up. My magic 8 ball says that all signs point to success.

However, although Ruud continues to eat and drink, she’s lost a little weight and she still remains very quiet. She stays outside during the day protected by a “playpen” here we make sure she has plenty to eat and we continue to take her in at night.

Lesson 1272 – Staying low for a bit

I was going to write something witty about chickens today, but first thing this morning, I went in for a long-overdue root canal on one of my back molars.

Yeah, things are a little sore right now (can you say kicked by a mule?)