Fluffy Butt Acres: Stories of our flock

[featherhead007]

I have one very jealous little chick. Lil Blue doesn’t like any other bird sitting near me or on me. She’s small but she pushes them all away.

 

[RebeccaBoyd]

I am sorry for the delay everyone.
Momma Hens story, Part 2.

A challenge was thrown at Rosie by her Papaw. You want chickens, you tame that wild hen. He did not think it could be done, frankly neither did I. Never, ever underestimate a 9 year old girl who has her heart set on having chickens.

My daughter is smart people, and had a trick up her sleeve. She knew I was wanting and wavering on the idea of having chickens again as well. She asked me for help. I told her this hen was making daily rounds. The first thing we needed to do was lure her off the hill with food. Phase 1 was making her a scrap pile a little bit away from the barn in the ditch off the hill. We used kitchen scraps sprinkled with a little bit of horse feed.

It took a few days, but she found it. She started coming off the hill and eating. The pile was about 20 feet away from the barn doors. You could sit just outside the barn and watch her. If you stood up, she hit the hill again. This lasted about a month. After she became used to being fed daily I had Rosie start moving the food closer to the barn.

It was during this period that she survived one of the many attacks by predators she would become known for. A red tail Hawk tangled with her. Dad witnessed it and said she was picked up by it and she was fighting. It happened fast. One second there is the hen hanging around the barn, the next she is in the hawks grasp being carried away. He actually informed Rosie that evening that she was gone. It broke her heart, she had not managed to get within 10 feet of this chicken and it was already "her" pet. You can imagine our relief and shock when a few days later here was this ruffled up warrior with a obvious wound to the back of her head and her foot looking for food. She survived, how she survived I do not know, but she did. Dad called her lucky. Rosie informed him she was her chicken and her name was not lucky. Her name was chicken. Rosie favorite character from her dragons show was Tuffnut, and it was Tuffnut who had a pet stray chicken named Chicken. They even looked similar, a little brown chicken. I thought there could have been 100 better names, but, as a parent by now I knew the 1 golden rule. Pick your battles, do not argue with a child over silly things. Chicken it is.

Chicken looked bad. From a distance I could see the head wound was scabbed over but her foot. Oh her poor foot. 1 toe was already gone and the others were simply attached by strips of skin. It was obvious she was going to loose them. I wanted desperately to get my hands on her to treat her. Me and dad tried to herd and corner her in the barn. She may be hurt, but, she was still that same stubborn hen who was brought to the ring years ago and her wings were not harmed. She flew right back up the hill. She stayed away about 3 days this time. Rosie was mad at us and we promised if she came back we would not try to catch her. Thankfully she eventually showed back up once again looking for food. This time we told Rosie if she was going to feed her, wait until she saw her on the hill and then call for her. Once she got her attention put the food in a dish just inside the barn door and walk away. Within a week the remaining toes on the foot fell off leaving just the foot pad.

This new feeding plan worked. Chicken would come eat inside the barn. If we moved she was gone. This was chickens story for a few months leading into winter. She started roosting at night in a tree outside the barn, too high to reach. She also started to explore the barn when she felt no one was looking at her. One day while cleaning stalls I was shocked to find a egg in a food trough. We had at this point moved Chickens dish to just outside the wash bay in the middle of the barn and invested in layer feed. Chicken started hanging out in the barn more, but, this is a working barn, stalls need cleaned and horses need fed. Life cannot be put on hold so a chicken can explore much to Rosie's dismay. We told her, she comes in, ignore her and go about your business. Talk to her if you want just do not reach for her. It seemed like it took forever but Chicken finally got comfortable enough to not run/fly away while we moved around in the barn.

It was around Halloween when we realized we were not finding random eggs in the stalls anymore. Everyone but Rosie had chickens in the past so it was not alarming. Winter is on its way, chickens do not lay in the winter. Chicken was still around. One day in November, Chicken is not around. We really did not notice her missing until we went to close up the barn that evening, no one had saw her. Went and shined a light in her tree, no Chicken. Crap, here we go again. Rosie is once again upset over this tiny chicken she has yet to touch. The next morning while we are feeding dad spots a huge pile of stinky poo in the middle of the barn isle. I would soon learn what that was. Dad sent me on a mission, find that hen, she is here somewhere and sitting on infertile eggs.

This is a big barn people, 17 stalls, tack room, wash bay and a hay loft overtop both rows of stalls. I am looking for a tiny brown hen. A hour later I am confident she is not in any of the stalls, tack room or wash bay. That just left the hay loft or death trap as I call it. When they redid the barn the one thing they did not do was redo the hayloft. There is a hole over each stall to drop hay if you chose to watch out for. There is also several loose or weak boards. It is like walking on a mine field up there and I hated having to go up there. I definitely was not allowing my now 10 year old to go up there. I got my head lamp and dad took one side and I took the other. Dad's side did not have any hay just junk piled up there, mine had hay. About 100 bales of hay so he finished before I did. I was convinced she was not up there when I heard what only could be described as a shriek from a demon. It scared me to death but I shined my light in the direction the noise came from and there she was. Flat as a pancake hidden between hay bales screaming mad.

Now, I assumed she would run or fly away, she has never let any of us get close to her. I reached out to touch her to get her to move, the screaming banshee bit the crap out of me, she drew blood. She also stayed put. This was a side of Chicken I had never saw before, but, unbeknownst to me at the time, would be one I would become very familiar with. I did not know how many eggs she was on, it did not matter, they were infertile, they had to go. Dad tossed me up a empty coffee can so I could collect them. Chicken is growling and shrieking at me but I commit to reaching under her to gather the eggs. She came off that nest like a bat out of he!! at my face. I was not prepared and stumbled back. Dang lucky I did not fall into one of the holes on the floor or fall off the hay loft. Oh I cursed that hen, called her every name I knew and then some. Dad is down there laughing after seeing I was not going to fall and break my neck. Rosie is now at the barn in total shock of what is going on and shouting up to me "Language Mom". Chicken is in for a fight over these eggs. I should not have done it, but, I did. I managed to grab ahold of her and I tossed her down to the barn isle. She did not stay down long, she was back up in the loft in about 30 seconds. But once I tossed her I started rapidly tossing the eggs into the can. I am about halfway through when the she-devil is attacking my back and the back of my head. I get all the eggs and back away a few steps. Chicken stops attacking and runs back to her empty nest and plops back down shrieking. I leave her be and come back down to safety with 14 eggs in the can. I am scratched, bit and bloody and Rosie and Dad at this point are pretty much in hysterics with laughter. I am not amused and am threatening to go back up there and wring her neck.

We left her alone after the eggs were gone. She stayed broody for 4 weeks before she gave up. A major thing happened though when she decided she was not going to hatch chicks. She no longer roosted in the tree. She started roosting on a rafter in the middle of the barn. She also started letting us walk right beside her without moving. No one dared to touch her mind you the wench. In early spring dad was eating a slice of pizza and she was hanging around. He held out the crust to her, figuring she would ignore it. Nope, she ate the crust with him holding it. Somehow progress had been made, she was only semi-feral.

Now during the winter and early spring Mom and Rosie had been plotting. They decided Chicken was lonely. Chicken needed chicks. We never really used the wash bay so they stacked 2 hay bales to block off a part that never got wet. They spread some loose hay behind it to make it inviting for her. They even contacted a friend who agreed if she went broody would sell us a dozen eggs to give her. They were plotting the death of me really. When Chicken came back into lay that spring she liked her new accommodations. She made her a comfy nest and started laying in it. Mom and Rosie did not gather the eggs right away, they marked them and left them. They did limit the number to just the 3 freshest ones mind you. Their plan worked. In March Chicken went broody....again.

Part 3 coming later.

 

[Ponypoor]

This is princesses today.
View attachment 3838016
Should I continue with the fenbendazole . The worms looks dead to me. She laid an egg this morning. The egg was broken and I think she ate most of it.

Well she is likely pooping out the ones that are being killed off by the wormer.

Remember to repeat in 2 weeks time - or what ever the bottle says.

 

[Pastel the Rooster]

I thought my tribe was crazy. You have it worse.

I don’t mind the girls pecking my fingers, but I’m tired of Pastel pecking me. The girls do it in a sweet way, and they want food. But Pastel does it because he hates me.

 

[featherhead007]

I don’t mind the girls pecking my fingers, but I’m tired of Pastel pecking me. The girls do it in a sweet way, and they want food. But Pastel does it because he hates me.

You are a threat to his harem “as he sees it” his aggressive behavior is common in roosters who have their ladies to protect

 

[featherhead007]

My little ones are learning early about aggression and punishment. I can’t eat anything in front of them because they attack me to get to the food. (Cuts and scratches on my face and arms isn’t much fun)

 

[Pastel the Rooster]

I’m at the dr office with my dad, and he’s telling is doctor all about my chooks.
He has a back disease so he has to go to a doctor quite often. I think the disease is all enclosing spondylitis… I think.
Tax: Happy Mugs Monday from Athens

 

[Pastel the Rooster]

I am sorry for the delay everyone.
Momma Hens story, Part 2.

A challenge was thrown at Rosie by her Papaw. You want chickens, you tame that wild hen. He did not think it could be done, frankly neither did I. Never, ever underestimate a 9 year old girl who has her heart set on having chickens.

My daughter is smart people, and had a trick up her sleeve. She knew I was wanting and wavering on the idea of having chickens again as well. She asked me for help. I told her this hen was making daily rounds. The first thing we needed to do was lure her off the hill with food. Phase 1 was making her a scrap pile a little bit away from the barn in the ditch off the hill. We used kitchen scraps sprinkled with a little bit of horse feed.

It took a few days, but she found it. She started coming off the hill and eating. The pile was about 20 feet away from the barn doors. You could sit just outside the barn and watch her. If you stood up, she hit the hill again. This lasted about a month. After she became used to being fed daily I had Rosie start moving the food closer to the barn.

It was during this period that she survived one of the many attacks by predators she would become known for. A red tail Hawk tangled with her. Dad witnessed it and said she was picked up by it and she was fighting. It happened fast. One second there is the hen hanging around the barn, the next she is in the hawks grasp being carried away. He actually informed Rosie that evening that she was gone. It broke her heart, she had not managed to get within 10 feet of this chicken and it was already "her" pet. You can imagine our relief and shock when a few days later here was this ruffled up warrior with a obvious wound to the back of her head and her foot looking for food. She survived, how she survived I do not know, but she did. Dad called her lucky. Rosie informed him she was her chicken and her name was not lucky. Her name was chicken. Rosie favorite character from her dragons show was Tuffnut, and it was Tuffnut who had a pet stray chicken named Chicken. They even looked similar, a little brown chicken. I thought there could have been 100 better names, but, as a parent by now I knew the 1 golden rule. Pick your battles, do not argue with a child over silly things. Chicken it is.

Chicken looked bad. From a distance I could see the head wound was scabbed over but her foot. Oh her poor foot. 1 toe was already gone and the others were simply attached by strips of skin. It was obvious she was going to loose them. I wanted desperately to get my hands on her to treat her. Me and dad tried to herd and corner her in the barn. She may be hurt, but, she was still that same stubborn hen who was brought to the ring years ago and her wings were not harmed. She flew right back up the hill. She stayed away about 3 days this time. Rosie was mad at us and we promised if she came back we would not try to catch her. Thankfully she eventually showed back up once again looking for food. This time we told Rosie if she was going to feed her, wait until she saw her on the hill and then call for her. Once she got her attention put the food in a dish just inside the barn door and walk away. Within a week the remaining toes on the foot fell off leaving just the foot pad.

This new feeding plan worked. Chicken would come eat inside the barn. If we moved she was gone. This was chickens story for a few months leading into winter. She started roosting at night in a tree outside the barn, too high to reach. She also started to explore the barn when she felt no one was looking at her. One day while cleaning stalls I was shocked to find a egg in a food trough. We had at this point moved Chickens dish to just outside the wash bay in the middle of the barn and invested in layer feed. Chicken started hanging out in the barn more, but, this is a working barn, stalls need cleaned and horses need fed. Life cannot be put on hold so a chicken can explore much to Rosie's dismay. We told her, she comes in, ignore her and go about your business. Talk to her if you want just do not reach for her. It seemed like it took forever but Chicken finally got comfortable enough to not run/fly away while we moved around in the barn.

It was around Halloween when we realized we were not finding random eggs in the stalls anymore. Everyone but Rosie had chickens in the past so it was not alarming. Winter is on its way, chickens do not lay in the winter. Chicken was still around. One day in November, Chicken is not around. We really did not notice her missing until we went to close up the barn that evening, no one had saw her. Went and shined a light in her tree, no Chicken. Crap, here we go again. Rosie is once again upset over this tiny chicken she has yet to touch. The next morning while we are feeding dad spots a huge pile of stinky poo in the middle of the barn isle. I would soon learn what that was. Dad sent me on a mission, find that hen, she is here somewhere and sitting on infertile eggs.

This is a big barn people, 17 stalls, tack room, wash bay and a hay loft overtop both rows of stalls. I am looking for a tiny brown hen. A hour later I am confident she is not in any of the stalls, tack room or wash bay. That just left the hay loft or death trap as I call it. When they redid the barn the one thing they did not do was redo the hayloft. There is a hole over each stall to drop hay if you chose to watch out for. There is also several loose or weak boards. It is like walking on a mine field up there and I hated having to go up there. I definitely was not allowing my now 10 year old to go up there. I got my head lamp and dad took one side and I took the other. Dad's side did not have any hay just junk piled up there, mine had hay. About 100 bales of hay so he finished before I did. I was convinced she was not up there when I heard what only could be described as a shriek from a demon. It scared me to death but I shined my light in the direction the noise came from and there she was. Flat as a pancake hidden between hay bales screaming mad.

Now, I assumed she would run or fly away, she has never let any of us get close to her. I reached out to touch her to get her to move, the screaming banshee bit the crap out of me, she drew blood. She also stayed put. This was a side of Chicken I had never saw before, but, unbeknownst to me at the time, would be one I would become very familiar with. I did not know how many eggs she was on, it did not matter, they were infertile, they had to go. Dad tossed me up a empty coffee can so I could collect them. Chicken is growling and shrieking at me but I commit to reaching under her to gather the eggs. She came off that nest like a bat out of he!! at my face. I was not prepared and stumbled back. Dang lucky I did not fall into one of the holes on the floor or fall off the hay loft. Oh I cursed that hen, called her every name I knew and then some. Dad is down there laughing after seeing I was not going to fall and break my neck. Rosie is now at the barn in total shock of what is going on and shouting up to me "Language Mom". Chicken is in for a fight over these eggs. I should not have done it, but, I did. I managed to grab ahold of her and I tossed her down to the barn isle. She did not stay down long, she was back up in the loft in about 30 seconds. But once I tossed her I started rapidly tossing the eggs into the can. I am about halfway through when the she-devil is attacking my back and the back of my head. I get all the eggs and back away a few steps. Chicken stops attacking and runs back to her empty nest and plops back down shrieking. I leave her be and come back down to safety with 14 eggs in the can. I am scratched, bit and bloody and Rosie and Dad at this point are pretty much in hysterics with laughter. I am not amused and am threatening to go back up there and wring her neck.

We left her alone after the eggs were gone. She stayed broody for 4 weeks before she gave up. A major thing happened though when she decided she was not going to hatch chicks. She no longer roosted in the tree. She started roosting on a rafter in the middle of the barn. She also started letting us walk right beside her without moving. No one dared to touch her mind you the wench. In early spring dad was eating a slice of pizza and she was hanging around. He held out the crust to her, figuring she would ignore it. Nope, she ate the crust with him holding it. Somehow progress had been made, she was only semi-feral.

Now during the winter and early spring Mom and Rosie had been plotting. They decided Chicken was lonely. Chicken needed chicks. We never really used the wash bay so they stacked 2 hay bales to block off a part that never got wet. They spread some loose hay behind it to make it inviting for her. They even contacted a friend who agreed if she went broody would sell us a dozen eggs to give her. They were plotting the death of me really. When Chicken came back into lay that spring she liked her new accommodations. She made her a comfy nest and started laying in it. Mom and Rosie did not gather the eggs right away, they marked them and left them. They did limit the number to just the 3 freshest ones mind you. Their plan worked. In March Chicken went broody....again.

Part 3 coming later.

I read Dad this part of the story and kinda told him about the first part. He genuinely seemed sad about her passing.

 

[RoyalChick]

I’m at the dr office with my dad, and he’s telling is doctor all about my chooks.
He has a back disease so he has to go to a doctor quite often. I think the disease is all enclosing spondylitis… I think.
Tax: Happy Mugs Monday from Athens View attachment 3838253

Love Athens’ crazy do!
I think maybe your Dad has ankylosing spondylitis?

 

[knoturavggrl]

Awww she is almost like a frizzle - she will just be extra special

She will be, I do now think she cant see out of the larger eye. It has gotten a little cloudy.
The feathers puzzle me. They look like my hair in the morning, only all the time!