Survival Guide to Not Getting Eaten

Three days ago, I was between activities with my kids and was in a hurry to get my chickens inside the coop for the night. The chickens free range and roam around our house during the day, but when the sun sets, I lock them inside the coop for protection and safety. I normally take attendance of all fourteen chickens to make sure none of them get left behind. I start with the ones that are the most precious to me and have names:

Speedy-check

Shark Bite-check

Sweet Pea-check

Tweedle Dee-check

Bubble Gum-check

Fluffy Cheeks-check

Rhode Island Red-check

Isa Brown One-check

Isa Brown Two-check

Black Sex Link One-check

Black Sex Link Two-check

Black Sex Link Three-check

Black Sex Link Four-check

Clifford the really, really mean rooster-dead last on my attendance (His days are numbered...please no judgement. For the rooster explanation, see my blog post called, He Was Mean So We Ate Him.)

Isa Brown Number One striking a pose. What should her name be?

When I put the chickens inside the coop Wednesday night, I didn't have time to complete my attendance roster. I didn't notice that one of my Isa Brown girls didn't make it back to the coop. My Isa Browns really deserve names, they are the friendliest hens, and I love them so much. They follow me around the yard and will eat out of my hand. Plus, they are the BEST egg layers. I can count on getting an egg from each of them everyday. Isa Browns are beautiful birds too, they have a pretty golden color.

My husband was outside clearing some trees on Wednesday for our next big farm project (more on that subject to come soon). He was putting away his chainsaw and other tools when he thought he saw a chicken walk right in front of him. It was very dark, so he wasn't sure if he was seeing things or not. After taking his load of things back to shed, he went back to see if he could find the chicken, but didn't see or hear anything.

I had a meeting at church while Mike was chopping down trees. When I got home around 8:00, he told me he thought he saw a chicken wandering around outside. My stomach immediately turned sour at the thought of one of my girls spending the night outside without the protection of Clifford or the coop. Night time is when chickens are the most edible. A big chunk of their predators are nocturnal like owls, skunks, opossums, raccoons, foxes, coyotes, weasels, badgers, and the list goes on. I ran outside and flung open the door to my coop, which Clifford greeted me with the most intense "I'm going to attack and kill you" look. I did a quick chicken count down and immediately discovered I was missing one of the Isa Browns.

I called and called to her outside (they normally come when I call "Chickies" really loud and obnoxious). I went into the woods with a flashlight, my work clothes being torn by prickle bushes and sticks, but could not find her anywhere. Thinking I lost one of my girls, I went inside with a heavy heart and didn't sleep very good that night. Thursday morning I woke up and was so thankful when I saw Isa Brown Number One waiting patiently for me beside the coop. She survived the night! Maybe her name should be "Lucky".

Here is a video of me calling the chickens to come to the coop in the evening. You may want to turn the volumn down, haha!

The survival instinct of chickens knocks the socks off me. While they are walking around the yard, Clifford is constantly searching the sky and the trees for anything coming close to the hens. Whenever he sees a predator, such as a hawk, he makes a unique sound alerting the hens to go into hiding underneath bushes or some brush to prevent an attack. Hens are experts at playing hide and seek, which is probably why I couldn't find my missing hen Wednesday night...she remained hidden and quiet until daylight when all the "bad guys" go back to sleep. Thankfully the weather wasn't too cold or rainy Wednesday night, so she was okay spending the night outside.

One of my 11 babies, I feel like a pirate!

Clifford is good at protecting his flock, but since he continually attacks me, he might be replaced very soon. A couple weeks ago, I made my annual trip to the Tractor Supply. Can you guess what I got.... eleven new babies, my flock is now up to 25 birds, I'm so excited! Next year, instead of getting seven to ten dozen eggs a week, I'll double my production!

Two of the babies are already showing a rooster's comb on top of their heads and are leading the pecking order of the other chicks, so I now have at least three roosters on hand. The rule of thumb with the rooster to hen ratio is 10 hens to 1 rooster. There is no easy way of putting it....if you have too many roosters in a flock, they will overly rape the hens and the hens will die or get severely hurt. Because of my bad luck with mean roosters, I will only have one rooster at a time.

So, I'm working up my courage to cull (kill) my first chicken. It's part of the farming life, and it has to be done. People have done it for thousands of years in order to eat. It's the humane way of getting rid of a troublesome animal. Depending on when I do it, I may or may not blog about my experience. A lot of animal lovers would probably be disgusted with the details of culling a chicken, including my biggest fan, my mom (Hi, Mom!!!). But, it will be done with lots of love and respect for Clifford, just like we did with our first mean rooster, Hulk.

Thanks for reading my Country Squawk,

Kelly