Little Chick Update

After doing the Chicken coop update, I realized there were a few things that I mentioned but hadn't followed up for a while. So I thought I'd start updating some of them starting with the little chick in the incubator that could not get out of his shell on his own.

It seemed this little chick was doomed from the start, he couldn't even get out of his own shell. Everything I read said that helping a chick out of the egg was not a great idea because if the chick is not strong enough to manage to get out on his own, he wouldn't survive anyway. Or so the theory goes. I fully intended to follow this advice, but the theory did not take into account the chick peeping all day long. This chick cracked his shell in the morning and started peeping. After a few hours of this, I couldn't just stand by and listen to him anymore; he was stuck and scared so I helped him out. He was wobbly and certainly a little different than the other chicks so I secluded him for a few days as he got his feet under him. I started calling him Tiny Tim.

After a few days, he was pretty steady on his feet so I put him with all the other chicks. Being the smallest in the bunch, he learned to stand up for himself and be insistent about getting food and water. None of the other chicks picked on him, they just tended to run over him in their rush for food. He'd just get right back up and join in at the feeding dish. Things seemed to be working out for him.

Once the chicks were too big for the brooder, I moved them into the vacant rabbit colonies in the chicken coop. Everybody thrived. I could always spot Tiny Tim because he was smaller than the rest. No matter, he was growing and developing at his own pace and could keep up with the rest. I always make a point of picking up and holding the chicks so they'd become accustomed to human touch, I must admit Tiny Tim got more than his fair share of petting. Once they got old enough, I cut a little hole in the chick area wall to the main coop. That way, the more adventurous ones could go and mingle but still be able to get back to their safe area if any of the big chickens decided to be morons. And that's where poor Tiny Tim got himself into a world of trouble.

In the chicken coup, the main flock had 21 previously hatched chicks about 2 months older than the incubator chicks. Several of the young roosters started hanging out together and developed a real gang mentality. All that was missing were cigarettes hanging out of their little beaks and cans of spray paint. Generally the two older roosters kept everything under control. But the J.D.s (juvenile delinquents) were opportunistic and if the occasion would arise, they'd give grief to any chicken in their line of fire. I started counting down to when I could put those three into the freezer, a first for me.

`

I never thought for a moment that Tiny Tim would venture out of the safe area. I should have known better; his determination and bravery was apparent from the day I helped him out; the bird was a fighter. So the poor little thing went out into the big old coop and the rotten roosters were all over him. Don noticed the commotion when he was doing some outside work. He started yelling for me and finally I heard him. I found doing his best to keep the roosters away from poor Tiny Tim as he cowered under a board. Not only did Tiny Tim venture out into the coop, he managed to get outside into the pasture. Once out there, I guess he lost his bearings and couldn't figure out how to get back inside, the J.D.s took advantage of the situation. I picked him up and Don was sure the chick would need to be put down. He was beat up. I took him inside and examined him. The J.D.s must have chased him into a corner and pecked at him when he couldn't escape. I make a habit of going out every hour when new chicks are venturing out so I knew this incident was less than 15 minutes old. They sure did a number on him in that short time, though. All his feathers on his lower back were gone and he was missing a patch of skin. I washed him off as gently as I could with warm water. I kept him in a cat carrier in the kitchen. For the first day, he was very quiet and didn't do much. The next he started moving around and eating. By the fourth day he was giving his opinion on everything and really enjoyed helping me sweep. His wounds healed well and quickly. I suppose it was one of those cases of looking a lot worse than it really was.

`

When he was healed, perky and extremely noisy, I brought him out to the coop again. I put him with three other chicks a hen had a few before in the other vacant rabbit colony. At first I kept him in a cage in the area. After everybody got used to each other, I opened the cage door for a bit. After a while, all four were great friends. Tiny Tim now was about 4 months old and was obviously a hen so I changed her name from Tiny Tim to Timbitts.

When the four chicks were old enough, I put them in the main coop. The J.D.s had gone off to their proper place and were now called Sunday Dinner. Chickens have quite the social order and there is a little jostling as hens learn their place in their community. The older hens tend to be higher up in the hierarchy and don't mind reminding the younger ones of this fact. Timbitts figured out how to beat the system by hanging with our main rooster, Captain Morgan. He never let the chickens squabble for long and the hens knew better to start the old dominance game anywhere near him. Captain Morgan also seemed to have a soft spot for Timbitts so the other hens gave her no big problems.

I tagged Timbitts with my version of a leg ring, a plastic electricians tie, just so I could spot her easily. I didn't need to, Timbitts stands out in any crowd. It didn't hurt that she managed to twist her toe and now it's crooked so that's a dead give away. The toe doesn't bother her and she doesn't limp. She seems to be having a great time out there and enjoys her life. She is way past due to start laying and she hasn't. I don't care, she's a little chick that defied the odds and a prime example of why 'livestock' should be redefined. She's staying :).

Timbitts with two of her buddies sharing scratch.

A Frosty Flight of Fancy

Around this time of year, I start waiting for the first frost. I know it's coming, it's just a matter of time. Almost everything in my garden can tolerate one light frost but once that happens, whatever's left out in garden, usually tomatoes, zucchini and pumpkins need to come in or I'll lose them. Carrots tolerate frost pretty well so they'll come in last. I've been known to pick carrots right into November. As long as they're in before the first snow.

I begin listening for frost warnings on the radio and watch Autumns' touch in my garden; her tattle-tale signs are everywhere. The most delicate plants have edges bleached musty white as the nights become too cold for them. The green fronds of the carrots burnish orange embers at their tips. I know Autumn is whispering, I hear her voice on the winds as Autumn tells them of their new purpose. Winds move through the branches, coldly shaking weak and fragile leaves from the trees. Things pale in the winds' cooling breath. The sky is pale, the sun is pale, the grass loses its green vibrancy. The colour has faded. But before Autumn splatters all hues of red, yellow, orange and brown on the earth, the colour needs to drain even more.

Autumn will walk at night, looking and selecting what will be colored and when. She'll dress the landscape as she dresses herself; in all tones of yellow, orange and brown. She'll lean over the ground, her long, red hair flowing down. With a slender white hand she touches the earth and a shiver runs over the ground. She's brought the frost. And a warning, "Get ready. Prepare what you need to stay warm, fed and safe. My father Winter is coming and he is not a gentle nor fair man." Autumn helps us become strong because Winter will take the weak
`
In the morning, the shiver Autumn brought crunches under my feet as I walk on the stiff grass. The first hard frost is here. As the sun touches the earth and the trees' shadows move away slowly through the day, the frost will vanish. But the results will remain. Whitened pumpkin leaves and black tomato plants protect their fruit for the last time. The last of the crop needs to come in and the garden will be put to bed. The season will end with a blanket of snow.

`

Thanks for the warning, Autumn. Thanks for giving me just a little more time to finish the harvest. While your touch is cold, your colours are warm. Now I wait for them, delighting in their vibrancy and the crispness. Stay as long as you want, don't hurry away. I'm in no rush to see your father again.
`

Frost vanishing from my garden in the sun's early light.

Even the roof of the chicken coop gets a touch of frost at its edges.