A Gift From The Amish

Two years ago, my husband and I decided to "build" a barn to store our farming equipment. My husband does not enjoy carpentry work, he'll do it, but it's not his cup of tea. I'm definitely not handy when it comes to doing anything other than crafts with a glue gun or a paintbrush, so we decided to hire a local lumber company to build our barn.

When the building team arrived, my heart lept with joy when a truck full of Amish men parked in front of our house. It was certainly a surprise, but a wonderful surprise! Anything I've ever seen built by the Amish has been done perfectly and beautifully, so I knew our barn would be well built.

My family in front of the framed barn. Out of privacy and respect for my Amish friends, I did not take any pictures of them.

Joseph and his seven sons, aged in their twenties all the way down to ten years old, built the barn that summer. They arrived at 8:00 in the morning and worked until 3:00 in the afternoon so they could go back home and work in their fields until dark. I've never met such hardworking people! They worked with a smile on their face while sweating in long sleeved shirts and long pants in very hot temperatures.

While the barn was being built, I provided treats every day as a huge thank you for their help. As I delivered ice cold drinks, brownies, cookies, and cakes to the worksite, we became friends. We talked about chickens and gardening (they said their garden was MUCH bigger than mine) . They sweetly dodged my free ranging chickens while they moved lumber around the yard. Their youngest worker, Neil, started swimming in the pool with my kids to cool off. Day after day I sat on my swing watching them throw huge planks of wood effortlessly 20 feet in the air at the other men on the rafters...they never once dropped a board or fell off the high beams. Their work was amazing!

The day the barn was finally complete, I was sad that I wouldn't see my Amish friends anymore. But, because they were so sweet and kind, they gave me a special parting gift, a mated miniature pair of chickens that I named Blonde and Brownie.

Brownie and Blonde, my Amish chickens, on their first day with me. They weighed about two pounds each and fit on the palm of my hand.....they are pretty tiny compared to my other chickens that weight about eight pounds each.

Blonde and Brownie were Bantam Chickens, about a half the size of my other chickens. I was worried about their safety, because chickens typically peck on the smallest birds of the flock. Sam, the driver of my Amish friends, told me that Bantam Chickens are tiny but fierce. They can take care of themselves even when surrounded by normal sized chickens.

Whenever adding new chickens to an established flock, it's a wise idea to quarantine the newcomers to ensure they do not bring disease or parasites to the rest of the birds. I put Blonde and Brownie inside a separate coop, one I normally use for baby chicks, until I felt it was safe to integrate them. Once I opened the door for Blonde and Brownie to free range, the other chickens "tried" to bully them because of their size. I closely watched the chickens checking each other out in case I had to separate my Amish chickens from an utterly bloody battle.

To my surprise, Blonde and Brownie became the ultimate ninja fighting warriors whenever anyone tried to chase them. They fought back. They used their tiny wings that looked super soft and fluffy to fly at the faces of any large chicken that tried to mess with them. I laughed and laughed as they did this over and over again. It was quite a sight to see two tiny chickens beat the snot out of bigger, bullying chickens. After that first day, I had no problems leaving my two Amish chickens in the coop with the rest of my flock. They were going to do just fine.

Until...a couple weeks later five of my chickens died unexpectedly. Brownie was one of them that died tragically. Because of the building project, some insulation foam was left outside with a heap of trash. Chickens eat everything. I think some of them found and ate the insulation foam, because there were so many pecking marks all over it. I lost so many good birds that week. But, as I have discovered, farm life can be very, very hard and disheartening sometimes. My heart aches during those times. I've even shed tears over those chickens that mean so much to me, the chickens that follow me around the yard like loyal puppies, the chickens that come when I call their names, my buddies that eat out of my hands. I cried over Brownie and over my other rooster named Fireball that week. They were great guys.

Blonde mourned the death of Brownie like any other widow. She continued to perch in the same section of the coop they used to cuddle every night. She wandered around the yard without Brownie by her side. While this sad time happened, Mike, my husband, was finishing building my newer, larger coop on the side of the barn.

Blonde wouldn't leave her old coop, the one she used to share with Brownie, on her own. It's kind of romantic. She kept waiting for Brownie to come back to her. I had to carry Blonde from the spot she used to share with Brownie and take her to the new coop where she was forced to make friends with the other chickens. She didn't act so lonely after changing coops.

I had Blonde for an entire year before she did something none of my other girls had done before. She went broody. Broody hens will sit on eggs for 21 days in a row. They take one drink and food break a day. They take one bathroom break a day. But for most of the 24 hours in a day, THEY DO NOT MOVE. Broody hens are quite determined to lay on their eggs until one of them becomes a chick. They do not care if the eggs they sit on belong to them or another chicken. They want to sit on, at least, five eggs at a time if not more.

Because I wanted to see if Blonde could hatch the eggs she was sitting on, I separated her from the flock to give her peace and quiet. Exactly 21 days later, I came into the coop and discovered this sweet picture:

Blonde sitting with her babies. She successfully hatched six babies, three hens and three roosters.

Blonde was an excellent momma hen! She went into full blown ninja fighting mode if any other chicken looked at her babies or came near them. Her babies cuddled with her every night in their nesting box. She taught them how to free range in the yard, scratching the ground with their feet to find bugs. Whenever she found food on the ground, she would made a special cluck, cluck, cluck sound for her babies. She always let them eat first before she ate. I loved seeing her in momma mode.

This fall, she became broody again. She left her other six, now grown, chicks behind and started the process all over again. This time she hatched three babies, two hens and one rooster (her last rooster baby is being a stinker!). She slept with them in a nesting box, trying to keep them warm during the winter. Her babies got bigger than her, yet they still faithfully followed her around calling her momma.

I'm giving this very full account of Blonde's story to share how special she was to me. She was an unexpected gift from a group of strangers who became my friends, but who I will probably never see again. She was unlike any other chicken in my flock because of her small size and because of her fierce and feisty attitude. She was a loving momma. She did anything for her babies. She loved me, because I took care of her and fed her treats all the time. I was the only one that could touch her babies, because she knew I loved them too.

Blonde died this week. A hawk flew inside my coop and killed her.

This loving post is my last goodbye to my girl as the tears are falling down onto my laptop. I don't think the hawk ate her because she was the easiest kill. Blonde saw the hawk threaten her babies and her home. Knowing my ninja chicken like I did, she probably thought she would protect her family until her last breath. And she did.

The smallest egg in the middle is Blonde's last egg.

I found her last egg in my coop after I cleaned up the mess the hawk left behind. Immediately, I turned on my incubator where her last baby may be growing (depending on if that egg was fertizlized by one of my roosters). She rarely let any of the roosters touch her...she was her own girl after Brownie passed away. But I have to at least try to see if her last egg would produce another Blonde. I find out in 21 days.

Thanks for reading my Country Squawk,

Kelly

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