(UNDER CONSTRUCTION)
Critter Update July 22, 2005
This year has been a very busy year, with many many things going on. After the last update, we had lovely weather - until the week of Christmas. It seemed like Hell finally froze over, and within 48 hours we went from nippy to eighteen inches of snow. The road was level with our window sill, which was scary, since our front porch is a mere four feet from the road, which now is busier than ever, not only because of the Kings Island traffic, but because we had two new subdivisions build around our town, and at least four developments on the other side of the river.
This was the first winter we ever had animals outside, although they were in the shed. I was surprised to learn that the chickens and ducks put out their own heat. Straw is nice and warm, until it gets wet. Then it puts out a lot of heat. The inside of the shed got ice on it. That was my first mistake in wintering ducks and chickens.
The second mistake I made - and I was lucky that I didn't lose any of my birds - was to feed them straight scratch. Their once silky and shiny coats got dull and dirty.
I learned that straw when dirtied, is no longer dry, fluffy and holding in dry heat. I tried layering it with more straw and wood shavings, but the moisture wicked through the wood shavings. With a bad back and knees, it was really hard in getting the wet dirty straw out of the shed. This winter, I will try a mixture of horse bedding pellets ( it's like Feline Pine, but in bigger bags and much less expensive) and wood shavings. My birds had a heater in the shed which helped when the temperatures dipped below the Thirties, to keep their water from freezing and to keep them warm, as well. Also, I will keep feeding them their layer food, with bird seed or scratch, but in bigger quantities, to keep them warm AND well-nourished. One good thing Dan and I did was taking a two-by-four board and laying it catty-cornered in the shed. The hens loved it, and their little feet kept warm. Scooter Rae, the Female Muscovy also took to chasing off the girls and using the roost as her own, or sharing it with her mates Kaweyna and Frodo.
More Problems
It was about late March, and in late February, I acquired more birds. I got a little Crested Khaki Campbell male duck and a female Gold Laced Black Wyandotte pullet. They were soooo cute and I would put them on my chest for a couple of hours, while I watched TV before going to bed. Sparrow, the pullet, flew, hopped, sparred and fluttered from place to place, while Rhodie, the Khaki sat on my chest with his bill to my beak.
Frodo turned out to be the meanest in the bunch. He had pulled out a lot of Bo Bo's feathers, while hounding the poor rooster non-stop. Pudge decided to switch his allegiance to Frodo, and they both harassed Bo Bo until I had to take Bo Bo inside. Then Frodo turned on Pudge and Frodo started hounding Pudge the way he used to hound Bo Bo. Frodo even started whooping up on Kaweyna, and it got so that all the birds walked in fear of Frodo.
I had heard of roosters being dangled upside down for a few seconds whenever he attacked, and I thought I would try this with Frodo. For one thing, it is extremely hard to catch a bird that doesn't want to get caught, no matter if they fly or not. And flipping a 15-20 pound duck upside down and holding them by their legs is no easy task, especially when they can halfway upright themselves and bite you.
We agonized over it, but we decided to re-home Frodo. My in-laws said that their grand-daughter needed a duck to show for 4H, and since Frodo had seemed to be pretty good with Dan and I. Unfortunately, that didn't work out, and Frodo was turned loose with the other ducks. This summer, Frodo had two "lady friends," who had nests side by side, under my youngest brother-in-law's daughter's rabbit hutch. One egg hatched, but the duckling died. My sister-in-law was smart to throw away a lot of the eggs. If she hadn't, they would have been over-run by ducks.
Bo Bo was never the same, even though Kaweyna didn't bother him as much as Frodo had. Scooter Rae took on the role of persecutor, and again, Bo Bo's glorious tail feathers were no more. Red skin showed through the white, then became all red skin. Bo Bo had Blu Kote Spray put on him, and you would have thought I was killing Bo Bo, the way he yodeled and hollered. So instead of taking out his aggressions on the Muscovies, Bo Bo started attacking Dan and I on whims. Dan let one little pre-teen girl in the pen, and just as I was thinking "WHAT was Dan THINKING?" Bo Bo jumped up with all his ten pounds and spurred this girl. Dan grabbed Bo Bo before Bo Bo could do any harm. The girl just laughed, but I would have been scared.
Bo Bo still tries to attack. I tried dangling him, and laid him on the floor and petted him until he came out of his stupor. Dangling was hard on me, so by accident, I came up with another way to keep Bo Bo in control. I take sticks with me to tap together and herd the birds into the shed at night. Bo Bo will try to attack during feeding time, but when Bo Bo sees the stick, he puts himself in the corner and whines. I just have to tap the stick, which is a half-inch mop handle or a PVC pipe, on the ground, and Bo Bo minds his manners.
Now if Bo Bo would take up for himself with the Muscovies...
More Chickens and Ducks - And More Problems...
April was a busy month with the babies. I had found five fertile duck eggs and put them in the incubator. I didn't know whose eggs I was incubating in my Little Giant, as Scooter Rae wasn't laying at that time, so the eggs had to be either Khaki Campbell or Mallard. The father were either Kaweyna or Pudge.
While we were awaiting the outcome of the five eggs, I saw three little Bantam chicks that were not much bigger than half dollar coins. The three I got I could hold them all in one hand and have room to spare. I named the bantam chicks, Elvis (black and white), Velma (Silver Old Dutch Game) and Vesta (Golden Old Dutch Game). Within five days, I got acquainted with an illness called "Pasty Butt," where the chick is chilled and has diarrhea. The diarrhea dries up on the feathers around the vent (poop/egg chute) and forms a plug to where the chick can no longer eliminate its feces, and the pressure within the bowels eventually kills the chick.
Well, Elvis had it first, then Velma got it. With Elvis, I soaked his wee little bottom with warm water, trying to gently pull off the poop plug. His little wee-wee popped out, and didn't go back in right away. Elvis was found dead the next morning, with starter crumbles in his little beak. He probably choked, that being the last straw. I buried him under one of the tripod legs that supported the Plumeria vine Dan had planted two years before. When we tell people we buried Elvis in our yard, we get weird looks. They still look at us weird when we explain that Elvis was a little black and white banty chick. He would have been pretty had he grown up.
With Velma, I turned up the heating pad under their bed a notch, and ground up the starter feed with dry oatmeal, to keep their bowels regular and not runny. I yanked the plug out of Velma's bottom and ripped out some tail fuzz, causing Velma to cry - and poop to fly. The poor little thing was so grateful that she now is the first one to hop out of the cage onto either Dan's or my hand. She is now laying little eggs the size of a quarter, and her favorite treat that she DEMANDS when she hears the bag rattling is the pizza-flavored Combos. Velma sounds like a tiny cat mewling for her Combos. Velma is not happy with the ONE Combo that I offer her. She will go to my other hand, that has the hand full of Combos and starts munching on that.
Velma will hop up to nip Dan's finger, grab a feather, or treat. And when I am tired or not feeling well when she's out, Velma will fly up on me and check me out.
Vesta wasn't too friendly, but in the last month has become friendlier, allowing me to cuddle her and kiss her head or between her wings. I think she has started laying too, even though she is a little over three months old. Vesta kind of looks like the Muppet character Beaker, with her longer curling beak that she uses to scoop up food and to help her climb. As long as Vesta remains healthy and it doesn't hurt her, I will leave her beak alone.
I also got two more chicks to replace Elvis - a little Sebright that exuded "maleness" but was the first to jump on my hand and a white mini Silkie chick. I had always wanted a Silkie, and when the little Sebright chose me, I didn't have the heart to return him to the bin I had gotten him from. I named him Dovey, and Dan named the little Silkie Cotton.
For the longest time, Dovey was the smallest chick in the cage - about the size of a D battery. Although he was the smallest of the four, Dovey showed the pluck that his name (DOV - "Bear" in Russian/Israeli) signifies. "Dov" is pronounced like "he dove off the face of the cliff," but I pronounce it like the bird "dove" but it rhymes with "Lovey." Dovey will probably weigh a bit over two pounds when he finishes growing, but he was scared when I tried to weigh him last week, and I couldn't get his weight.
At three months, he tries to get the girls, bosses them and tries to pick fights with Mr. Rhodes (Rhodie), who is at least five times bigger than Dovey and holds Dovey by the neck when Dovey picks a fight with Mr. Rhodes. Dovey will fight his reflection in the mirror and he has offered to whoop up on Bo Bo, who would take Dovey up on his offer, if we would let them. We have to break up Dovey and Rhodie often.
Cotton is the biggest chicken in the cage, but not much bigger than Dovey, if Dovey stretches as tall as he can. Cotton is very retiring, very reluctant to leave the cage, but will take up for the little ones if the bigger birds bother them. I had Cotton put him/herself between Junebug, the youngest duck and the slightly older one, Twee Quackit, to keep the little one safe. Cotton wasn't even two months old then. As I said, Cotton does not like to leave the cage, but when I grab her/him out of the cage, Cotton enjoys getting massaged between the wings, and will fall asleep on my lap when I stroke his/her bath. Sometimes when I read my e-mails and read my Bible, Cotton quietly sits on my lap. Cotton is such a dear.
Don't Forget The Baby Duckies!!!
On May third, there was pipping along with the peeping. I was really excited, but there was a problem - the Little Giant would not let the humidity get past 70% humidity, in spite of my spraying and wetting the eggs every time I turned the eggs. I probably had
Cat, Duck and Chicken Updates
As of today, September 26, 2004, we have grown - and grown, in more ways than one.
Growing Up. Butterball, the little rooster with the hernia has grown to be a nice ten-pound rooster. A couple of months ago, he got his "spurs," the outgrowths of bone up the middle of the insides of his legs, that look like toes without the claws. For a while, I thought my rooster had a weird leg deformity, but when I found out what spurs looked like and that roosters have them, then it was OK.
Butterball went through a period of being really aggressive, biting and attacking. I tried pulling out his tail feathers. He only winded up with a sore butt and it did not improve his attitude any. Once, when I was in the pen, he tried to attack me, and I put the blue tub you see here in the picture in between him and me, and let it bounce off him as he jumped at me. It just made him madder.
Then one day, I went into the pen, and didn't have the blue tub or a stick to protect me, and Butterball bit and held onto my leg, below the knee. Out of natural reaction, I took my right hand and smacked him hard - twice. Butterball then let go.
Butterball looked at me, like, "WHAT did you DO to ME!!!!???"
Butterball and Talullah
After that, I only had to shake a stick at Butterball and bang it on the ground. And after that, Butterball was a dream to handle. I always could pick him up and carry him, but after all this, I can pick him up without him attacking me or biting me. Of course, Butterball does his little mating dance like he used to do before biting me, but he stops short. In the picture above is one of his hens, Talullah. She had just pecked him for bothering her, while she was trying to lay her first egg.
Talullah has the cutest personality out of all the hens. If she is the last to be taken out of the pen, inside or the first one in the pen, Talullah will wait on top of the gate for me to take her in or to wait for the next hen to come into the pen. Then she greets each hen with a peck. She is never at rest, always exploring - sometimes flying out of the pen, but wanting back in and never figuring out how to fly back in.
Miss Rosie eating with George
Rosie may look like just a little red hen, but she has some problems, like bad eyesight (she sometimes flies into the fence of the pen), and sometimes laying eggs is so hard for her that she sounds like she is crying. This upsets Butterball, who clucks in time to her cries. It sounds like "Chicken LaMaz " in the early afternoon, with each hen's cluck being answered with a manly "Ber-GAWK!" from Butterball. I sometimes add to the noise, by clucking loudly myself - very therapeutic. Yet this little girl, when she isn't pooping on me when I take her out to the pen, manages to wrap her neck around mine, giving me a hug. I may have to change clothes at least once a day, thanks to Rosie, but she is a real sweetie, and will sit with me and watch TV once in a while (see picture below).
Rosie and Me watching TV
Butterball curious about what's going on with Talullah, and she wishes he would leave her alone to lay her first egg.
Miss Wren is still as sweet as she ever was, but she is taking lessons from Talullah for being fussy. She wants to get out in the bright sunshine and run, flap her wings, forage and occasionally, lay her greenish blue eggs, and she lets you know by making loud fussy noises.. She is another hen that hugs by wrapping her neck around mine. I will get a picture of Miss Wren's face to let you see how pretty and feminine her face is.
Butt Shots of Miss Wren (left, top), Gracie (right, bottom), and Rosie (right, top),
checking out Talullah's progress. Talullah wishes they would
leave her alone.
The Girls all give Talullah advice as she tries not to peck them all.
Miss Gracie has gotten bigger, but still is as nervous as ever. She loves her snuggles, but once in a while gets freaked. She lays the prettiest olive green eggs. I will get individual pictures of Miss Gracie, but right now, she has molted her "side whiskers." I think Gracie is an Auricana, as she fits the description of the hen of this breed, personality and all.
The ducks are laying as well. Billie Billie and Pudge came close to having a Pekin/Khaki Campbell baby two weeks ago, but it turned out to be twins that died in the egg. They only had a week to go before hatching. Squeakers is no longer the apple of Pudge's eye, but still remains sweet tempered.
Growing Older
All the cats are getting older. I put Murphy, the youngest, in diapers, because she has a physical incontinence problem. She is not too happy about this, but wears the diaper. She looks like a little black spider.
Meerkat also is in diapers, but because of a persistent behavioral problem. She is most unhappy about having to wear the diapers, but it cuts down on the mess.
Indy, Itty Bitty and Fly are fine, but George has lost a lot of weight since the picture taken with Rosie two months ago. George's teeth are bad and he has not been eating as he should, although he tries. I will try feeding him by syringe and see how that goes. He and Indy turned 12 this May. I will let you all know how it turns out.
And Just Plain Growing.....
Just when I thought I reached my limit of critters, I took in three eggs from a Muscovy duck momma. She had laid 18 eggs, and added to her and the other ducks on my brother-in-law Bill's pond, were about 25 more ducks. This was Susie's third clutch of eggs, and I took three of the eggs. The babies were a Muscovy/Mallard/Pekin mix.
That was on September 22nd. We came home from the Yom Kippur fast-breaking ceremony and oneg, and all three eggs had began to pip (the eggs were being pecked from the inside by the ducklings). However, the trip from the in-law's home to our house dried out the eggs. Although I had the water rings filled to overflowing in the incubator I got for my birthday the week before, the ducklings were having a hard time making an opening in their eggs.
Although it is recommended not to help remove the shell while a duckling or a chick is hatching, the membrane was so dry that we removed the whole shell off of each duckling. Had we not, we would have had at least one, if not all three dead in the shell. This is a picture of them just out of the shell below:
The second one out of the shell, Frodo, was near death, cold and pretty much frozen in position, breathing slow but regular. All three were a sorry sight. But after a night in the incubator, all three turned out lively and healthy. Frodo is the duckling in the back.
They were moved into larger quarters, an animal carrier with a heating pad in one half of the carrier, and padded with thick towels and puppy piddle pads. They are now eating, although they aren't too fond of drinking water right now. They come running when Dan or I come to the cage. Kaweyna (duckie front and left) is the friendliest and the leader, while Scooter, is the most adventurous. Little Frodo is somewhat of a loner, although he/she loves his/her siblings.
I will let you know how things go with everyone.
Critter Update 2004
My, how they grow! My first batch of chickens and second bunch of ducks have reached adulthood and four out of my six hens are laying eggs. Squeakers lays sometimes, while Billie lays almost every day, with a day off each week. Both of their eggs are an off-white, with Squeakers' eggs being a bit oblong in shape.
My Cream Legbar, Miss Wren, and her "sister" Rosie the New Hampshire Red, lay about every two to three days. Rosie;s eggs are a brick colored red, while Miss Wren's eggs are a sky blue with a bit of a green tinge to it.
Miss Gracie turned out not to be a bearded Mille Fleur. I found a picture of her on the Chicken Breeds site that looked just like Gracie, and she happens to be a bearded Appenzeller. She still has those fluffy black cheeks. As far as Talullah goes, I still have not figured out her breed yet. She still likes to fly up on my shoulder, and fusses like an old lady if I don't take her outside to the pen. Talullah hasn't laid any eggs yet, so I still have no clue as to her breed.
Pudge is a huge and beautiful drake Pekin. He got in his "curl feathers" on his tail this past June, showing that he is a male duck. His beak and legs are a deep yellowish orange, and he is the color of butter. He still has those expressive big blue eyes, and still lets me kiss him on the cheek. He is in biting mode, since this is his mating season, He is the funny little "escape artist," always pushing his way out of his cage whenever I give them a fresh water bottle or feed. He loves the outdoors and is with the chickens in the old pen. And like the rest of the chickens and "his ladies," Pudge loves to chow down on dry cat food. This is the chickens and ducks' favorite treat aside from bits of apple and American cheese.
Butterball has proven to be the "King of the Barnyard." He has grown into a huge white rooster, with a large comb and huge spurs. I have not weighed him yet, but I would not be surprised if Butterball weighed close to twenty pounds. In spite of those pounds, Butterball can move his feet pretty fast in his little mating dance he does for his ladies. The head goes down and the feet start going, and it is quite funny to watch. Yet out of all my poultry, Butterball is the most expressive. Because he bit my arm and would not let go - even after me pulling out a tail feather, Butterball did not get to go out with the others. He looked through the bars of his cage and sounded so sad, as if he were saying "poor Bo-Bo." He also has a toe fetish and goes nuts if someone barefoot comes up to his cage or the pen.. I make it a point to wear my socks and shoes - much to Butterball's disappointment. He has gotten better at not pecking and biting my husband and I, but he slipped the other day and bit my finger twice in the same place. OUCH... Later on, he looked at me through the bars and started doing his "BO-bo-bo BO Bo," as if he was trying to apologize for biting.
Shortly before eight in the evening, everyone gets rounded up and put back into their cages in the house. The ducks get a couple of hours in the bathtub before getting put away in their cage for the evening. Pudge will let you know he is not ready to let the tub drain, by moving lightening fast and biting your hand if you move it towards the drain lever. It is kind of like their wind-down time for the evening, where Pudge goes nuts and mates with Billie. For a while it was Squeakers, but Billie is now the girl of Pudge's dreams. They splash and bathe a while, then the girls float and paddle while Pudge fake-floats (having his feet on the bottom at all times but looking like he is floating), and quietly quack amongst themselves, as if they are discussing things. Then when I flip the drain lever, and Pudge doesn't make a move to bite, I know it is time to take them out of the tub. They wait until everyone is out of the tub, and upon the command of "Go to your room," they waddle off to their cage. Sometimes, they stop for a bit of dry cat food on the way, with the cats looking at them with a mix of horror and disgust, then resume their walk to their cage, where they go in, single file.
We have not gotten around to making a secured pen that they can stay in all the time. We just haven't had the time. Between Dan's regular job and his whistle making and my schedule, we have not had the time to work on building the pen. Although we agree on doubling the width of the pen, we still need to rebuild the back porch, and I am not too sure I want to shorten the length of the pen. I would like to have a dust bath for the chickens and a small kiddie pool in for the ducks. We agree that the pen will have an enclosed top with a tarp and that the walls of the pen will be reinforced with hardware cloth (rabbit wire), so that no unwanted critter can get to or grab our birds through the wires of the pen.
I still have my six cats. George and Indy turned 12 this June, and Itty Bitty turned 11 on April Fool's Day. Fly and Meerkat are 10 and Murphy will be nine this year.
Right now, we are going through flea season - oddly enough the ducks and chickens seem immune to the fleas. I wish the cats were just as repulsive to the fleas, but unfortunately, they are not. Itty Bitty had a severe reaction to the bites and looked pretty bad, but he is looking better.
Murphy has a bad reaction yearly, and drops or powders don't seem to help. I give her a medicated bath, which soothes the itch and irritation. She still refuses to use the litter box or the piddle pads. A lady from one of my duck sites came up with a solution. Since Murphy was born without a tail, I can use a Size 3 Huggies Supreme. It fits around Murphy's hind legs fine, although I have to cinch up the waist somewhat. The diaper fits Murphy well without being tight, and it comes off at night, when she is put into her carrier, and when she gets her bath. Murphy looks like a little black spider with a white bucket stuck to its butt, but this seems to work out pretty well - when I do it. For the simplicity in cleaning, I use an adult incontinence bed pad to line the bottom of Murphy's carrier, and sprinkle it with flea powder.
I wish the solution for George's fleas were as simple. Because of his light coloring, fleas seem to be attracted to George. I have combed George and put powders on him, but he still get the majority of fleas on his head and neck. A tub bath is out of the question, since George freaks out and has bitten, but I have been trying a dry shampoo, that seems to help some, although George hides from me for two days afterwards. George understands what "Comb the kitty" means, because when I say it and George and I are cuddling, he will walk away or jump off my lap, giving me a dirty look. Who says critters are dumb?
I will close and get on to dusting, spraying and combing. Next behavioral problem - Indy peeing on the cats' food...
So, until later....