How Chicken Poop in the Winter Ruins my Day

Proof that the chickens purposely make deposits in front of the door

This crazy, nonstop, seemingly-eternal winter is beginning to get on my nerves. Every day it's either snowing or blowing, and if I'm really in for a cruddy day, both will take place at the same time.

The morning trip to the barn means bundling up in my overalls and barn coat, while adorning myself with all sorts of accessories such as mittens, heat packs, and mental preparation. 

The horses don't require much on these days, as they have a constant supply of water and hay to help them through the season. The dogs and barn cats are effortless as well. It's not too difficult to give them fresh water, a scoop of food, and a quick pat on the head.

It's the chicken chores that are becoming increasingly annoying. I now have learned that the swing gate that leads into the chicken run should've been hinged to swing out rather than in. If it were to swing out, I could simply shovel the huge snowdrift in front of it and easily open it up to do chores. Instead, in order to push the gate open, I have to somehow shovel the snow behind it. To my knowledge, there has not yet been created a shovel that I can hold while on the outside of the chicken run and have it reach over a gate so I can shovel the inside of the run.

So I've been known to use a ladder to assist in jumping inside the run so I can shovel.

But this is equally annoying, causing me to take the short cut. I push the gate open as wiiiide as I can (six inches) before I squeeeeeze through (with my winter wear on) and push the gate to it's breaking point. Now, mind you, I also have three buckets I must get over the gate as well, and since a 5-gallon bucket of water won't fit through the small gate crack, I have to heave it over the gate, usually causing me to have only four gallons of water left. By the time I've lifted over the bucket of water, the bucket of feed, and the empty basket for collecting eggs, I've already had the same workout a CrossFit participant would have completed. From this point on, one would think the worst is over. But the biggest obstacle still lies ahead - the chicken poop that sits in small clumps in front of the coop door (that opens out). And because of this freaky-cold weather, the poop is frozen. Yep. It's frozen solid, like little piles of cement barricading the coop.

If I'm lucky, I have left the small spade out on the coop porch so I can begin the poop-chipping process (say that three times fast). I chip away and chip away, all the while my hands are freezing despite the heat packs in my snowmobile mittens. I get to the point where I think the door will open, but it hits a tiny monument that is so immovable, it may require a jackhammer.

If I'm not lucky, the small spade is hanging on a nail inside the coop. This leaves me to find an alternate way to clear these frozen droppings. My boot heels are usually the tool of choice. You'd be surprised at how effective they are when powered by a steady string of inappropriate vocabulary.

At this time, I am finally inside the coop. The overly-friendly chickens get under my feet and jump over my head as I refill their water and food dispensers and collect the eggs. Sometimes, the egg basket is left in the house, leaving me to fill my coat pockets with eggs. I have only two pockets. I can have eighteen eggs. I escape quickly, close the coop door, and head back to the dreaded gate.You can guess what happens as I try to squeeze myself back out of the gate with loaded pockets.

And now I have laundry to do.

Funny how it's all worth it. It really is. 

Sharon

Battle of the Screws: A Beautiful Tale of a Fixing and Bonding.....hahahaha!

"We're going outside to fix the gate to the chicken coop and the fence the horses broke," I told my youngest son. "And I'm bringing my iPhone with for taking pictures of our progress so I can write a blog about it."

Yep. That's what I told the boy who had slept in until almost noon. I suppose I could've woke him up hours before, but, every so often, a mother likes to have some extra peace in the house. Yesterday was one of those days. I ate breakfast ALONE. I sipped my coffee ALONE. I unsubscribed from unwanted emails ALONE, and I browsed through Pinterest ALONE. Ahhhh....the peace.

Now, it's not my fault that we headed out to work at the hottest part of the most humid day we've had so far. I mean, he could've been up earlier, right? But when we both walked outside, the blast of heat almost knocked us right back on our behinds (preferably on a couch in the wonderfully air-conditioned house).

I had told him to grab the power screw driver and fix the little white gate leading to the chicken coop, which, by the way, I'm pretty sure he is responsible for breaking in the first place. It was a simple task. All he needed to do was take out the four existing screws and screw them into a new location, since the wood had rotted around their current location. After hearing him make multiple runs from the workshop to the coop on his four-wheeler, and after hearing the sound of a hammer, I decided to check in with him.

"It's not gonna work," he said quickly. "We'll have to let Dad fix it."

If you're a parent, you'll recognize this as an excuse for a 12-year-old boy to get out of work.

"Why?" I asked. "What's wrong?"

"The screws have nowhere to put the screwdriver. They have flat heads like a nail," he answered.

The third board from the left is now secure!

Determined to make this boy work, I walked over to check out this rare type of flat-headed screw. I had purchased this little gate at a wonderful local antique shop in town called The Junk Asylum, and it had been painted with a nice fresh coat of white paint. The screws had collected a fair amount of the paint, giving them the appearance of being filled in. So after a small amount of chiseling, the screw was exposed and we made the repair.

Next on our list was to repair the two boards the horses had broken. I assume this happened while they were all huddled together swatting at the excessive amount of flies that have recently taken over the acreage. In any case, we needed two 1x6 boards that were eight feet long.

Finding the boards was easy. I had my helper measure out the correct length.

"Measure twice," I told him. "Cut once."

Cutting them with the circular saw was easy too.

Carrying them to the barn was easy. (Well, my helper did have a small setback here as he claimed a board suddenly nailed his hip bone, causing him to drop to the ground. This may have been an attempt to rest.)

What was surprisingly difficult was identifying which screwdriver tip needed to be put into the drill. On those two measly boards, THREE different types of screws had been used. THREE! A few required a phillips; I can handle that. But suddenly, there are screws with squares and screws with stars? It was like a kindergarten matching game for adult carpenters! Can you imagine how long it took me to find the square and star attachments in just the right size? Ugh!

Just what is the purpose of this?

I'm clearly not ready for new shapes.

Two new boards and one new headache

By now, we were both sweaty and short-fused. The horses were trying to help us, and if we were really on task, the flies would bite our arms and legs, causing us to drop a screw or board. My son claimed he had allergies, and the grand vision I had of us happily working together to fix things had quickly turned into the reality that kids don't naturally want to work very hard.

I had to laugh at what my son said when I told him we were finished with our job.

"It actually was kinda fun fixing stuff," he said as he smiled and rode quickly away on his four-wheeler.

I suppose, in a way, it really was fun. :)

Sharon
P.S. Notice how there are no pictures of us working. There's a reason for that; we weren't really in the mood for photo ops. LOL

Just Another One of my Crazy Ideas!

I confess. When I'm given time to think, I come up with ideas. And when my husband is on a business trip, I've been known to execute some of these ideas.

Like the time he was in China, and I took the kids to the Humane Society for our first indoor pet...I remember him calling home to see how we were. "We're good," I said, "Matt's team won the baseball game, and we bought a cat." I mean, what could he say? He was in China!

Two years ago, when hubby was out of town, I couldn't resist the purchase of our chicken coop. Now, before you all go jumping to conclusions, I want you to know that my husband is always okay with what I choose to do...in the end...once the initial shock wears off. Hahaha. But really, he's a good sport. 

That's why, when I told him I'd like to move the coop to a new location, he went right to work. Before we remodeled our horse barn, we had placed the coop alongside it. With the new look to the barn, it became clear that the coop didn't fit in.

The coop was originally where you can see the dirt alongside the barn. As you can see, the chickens had no shade. :(

So, because our new flock of chickens is to arrive in about one week, I thought the coop should be moved somewhere where its rustic appearance would make more sense. AND it needed to be in a place where there was shade. Gotta have happy chickens!

It sounds easy to move a small building to a new cozy location...

But then it needs electricity, which means digging a trench (courtesy of our oldest son)....

And then a fence needs to be constructed, which means digging holes. (My arms are STILL sore.) Nine holes were dug...I think. I really can't remember because I only helped dig four. :)

Because shade was needed, a nice space under the pines needed to be cleared.

That's my hard-working husband, chainsaw in hand.

It was a full day's work. Our muscles were sore, and most of the day, we nibbled on strawberries from the garden and iced tea, all while spraying ourselves with vanilla-scented spray to keep the ten billion gnats away.

Our efforts paid off, I believe. The coop is now nestled beside some white pines at the end of our garden. It should be an ideal place to watch the chickens while I play in the garden, and maybe they'll even get to sample some of the garden produce.

Everyone seems to be happy. The chickens will be too.  That being said, I will NEVER do this much work again....

...until the next crazy idea. 

Sharon

A Weekend on DewKist Farm

Our oldest son graduates from high school in just a few weeks, making family moments that much more special.

So, when last weekend started out with a mid-morning family breakfast, I knew good things were to come.

Fresh fruit (and yummy fruit dip) on a warm spring day...makes a girl wish her garden was ready! 

Of course, bacon makes everything better!

The chickens begged me for a wind chime on the front porch of their coop, so I caved. 

The boys enjoyed tearing up their 4-wheeler track....

...and taking time to rest.

It was while I was hanging with my boys that I had an idea! Why not start making a fairy garden? Thanks to the hundreds of ideas on Pinterest, I felt inspired to start my own. Now, don't expect much. I have no intention of making this anything extravagant, but I do plan on having some fun walking through the woods to find little treasures that a garden fairy would find suitable for her home. So far, I've made a pebble path that leads to where her front door will be. 

While I was scouting around for fairy findings, I noticed Toby, our younger collie, had found his own little place under some white pines. It looks like everyone enjoyed the day!

Loving the country, from our place to yours.

Sharon

Chronic Respiratory Disease in Chickens

If one of the kids begins to sneeze, it's no surprise. But the sound of a chicken sneezing turned my head a few times.

It started with just one of the Buff Orpingtons, the ones I picked up at the small post office a few miles down the rode. When they called to say that my twenty-five day-old chicks had arrived, I was elated. My youngest son wanted to tag along for the trip to pick up the chicks. School could wait. This was an epic field trip.

The chicks warmed our hearts with their fluffy cuteness and teeny tiny chirps and cheeps.

I was their momma - the only thing they had to take care of their needs.

But a single sneeze was cause for alert, and soon enough, there were more chickens sneezing. A thorough internet search left me confused as to what was causing the sneezing and loose stools in the coop critters, so I went on www.justanswer.com to chat with an expert bird veterinarian. For the cost of a typical vet visit (and there are no chicken vets in our area), I was able to correspond with someone who could help me isolate the problem.

Dr. Bob asked me about the health of my Buffs prior to this event. They had been happy and healthy. His next question was if I had added any new chickens to the coop lately.

Oh....my....goodness....YES!!!! Just a few weeks ago, I had purchased some chickens from a farm an hour away. Grrrr. Surely he knew his chickens were carriers, yet he ships thousands per year. Shame on me for not researching this first.

The Little Culprits and one of the Big Buffs

The new chickens, however, were the only chickens NOT ill. Dr. Bob mentioned that they were most likely carriers of an illness. Based on the symptoms listed below, Dr. Bob suggested that my chickens had been exposed to Chronic Respiratory Disease:

• Sneezing or coughing sounds
• loose stools
• ceased or reduced egg production
• bad odor from the chickens' face area (and yes, it IS a terrible smell!)

The prognosis is fair, depending on how a person looks at it.  Because the chickens are two years old, they most likely won't die like a younger group could. They will get over their colds, but the virus lives in their system forever, so if my chickens should ever get stressed, they will become ill once again. (Honestly, they have a wonderful life. Not much stress around here. LOL)

They don't look sick! (#denial)

They are still laying eggs, at a reduced rate though. And they still have energy to eat and run around the farm. I can wait it out until the chickens all need to be replaced, or I can replace them now. This means losing my first-born group of chicks, sterilizing the entire coop, ordering new chicks, and waiting six months for egg production to begin, AND hoping the virus hasn't lingered in some little corner of the coop.

For now, I will wait for the answer to come. I'm not ready to cull them all yet, but I suspect I'll know what to do when the time comes.

Lesson learned: Never be too quick to buy chickens from another location. Order chicks or hatch your own, if possible.

If you know anything about CRD in chickens, I'd love your feedback and/or advice on the subject. 

Sharon

Party in the Coop!

I thanked my almost-seventeen-year-old son first thing this morning. After all, there aren't many young men who would offer their help to a frantic mother at four in the morning.

While in a deep sleep and under the influence of two Tylenol PM to help me catch up on my sleep the new puppy deprived me of, I awoke at approximately 3:48 a.m. to the sound of extreme cackling. Dismissing it as the neighbors' geese, I tried to fall asleep and be thankful that the puppy had been sleeping for almost seven hours straight.

But soon, the cackling got too disturbing, and I leaned toward the window screen to see if I could determine what was going on. What happened after that was a blur, as I was still feeling groggy from the Tylenol. I put on my robe and ran into the kitchen to put on my boots (because it makes perfect sense to be out in the farmyard in the wee hours of the morning wearing a pink robe and Ariat Fatbabys!)

I noticed that my son never made it to his own bed and had apparently fallen asleep on the couch.  He woke up to his mother saying, "Something's killing the chickens! I wish I knew how to use a gun!"

Now, I would like you all to know that I usually don't assume the worst, and had a neighboring farmer not just told me a mink had killed six of his chickens, I wouldn't have assumed that anything was wrong with mine.

So, there stood my son, half asleep, and seeing how upset I was, he offered to go out with me to check on the chickens (no gun). I sprinted to the coop, remembering that I had left the windows open and pictured in my head a dozen chickens scattered in a bloody mess around the coop with one last hen squealing for her life. I flew open the gate, and my son aimed his flashlight through the coop window and said, "They're all fine, Mom."

Not quite trusting him, I opened the large door and peered inside, waiting for a raccoon to hiss at me and attack me with his little grubby paws. Instead, what I found was a bunch of chickens thinking it was daylight because I had forgotten to turn off the main light in the coop.

Basically, my chickens were partying.

Party animals!

"Geez, Mom! Here. Take the flashlight. This was stupid.  I'm going to bed," said my son.

"I'm sorry. I just thought..." But by the time I turned to look at him, he was already on his way back to slumber.

By 4:15, I was finally back under my own covers and ready to let the Tylenol finish its magic.

Then the puppy needed to be taken outside. (I'll be posting pictures of him soon.)

Too many animals? Maybe at times it can feel that way. But I wouldn't want it any different.

Sharon

Friday Discovery!

I don't know what possessed me to sit and watch the chickens lay their eggs this morning, but I did. Here's what I learned...

It takes a loooong time for a chicken to lay an egg. I'm really not sure why they mosey into their nest almost thirty minutes before the egg arrives. This poor hen doesn't stand a chance to relax when her friends keep bugging her. They must all want to use the same nest. It kind of reminds me of when my kids were toddlers and they'd follow me into the bathroom. Never a moment of peace!

Excuse me, could I PLEASE have some privacy?

Egg laying is a contagious sport. Apparently, the urge to nest is quickly learned by other animals such as Junior, the cat. Should he produce an egg, I'll be sure to post pictures.

Junior the Cat takes the coop rules seriously.

God literally gives signs to people who need them. My youngest son and his friend went exploring on the farm property woods today and found this old metal bin full of fallen leaves and produce tags. I was wondering what to plant this spring. It will be so fun to use these in this year's garden to mark the rows of vegetables! Do you think God wants me to plant ALL of these things?

A sign from God as to what I should plant in my garden this year.

There's a sweet little antique store in town that's full of booths from various vendors. I found this chicken-shaped egg basket to collect the daily eggs. Since the girls JUST started laying, I'm finding six eggs per day. That means there are still eight chickens who aren't pitching in yet.

An appropriately-shaped egg basket.