Views

The BP catastrophe has resulted in talk of bio fuels and turning chicken fat into diesel. I don't like the idea of chickens raised to fuel the world. Tyson says they have enough chicken fat from their operations to do this but the BP incident shows that there is never enough fuel.  I would rather the talk turn to solar energy. I am not someone who rides a bicycle to work. For one, I am scared of being hit by a truck or SUV. Drivers in Austin,TX are not the best and there are many who are just hostile. I don't trust them.  The other reason is because Austin is freaking hot ten or so months out of the year. I don't like the idea of  riding a bike under the sweltering sun, arriving to work drenched with sweat. If my place of employment offered showers to those who rode to work and  there were fewer trucks and SUVs on the rode, I would invest in a nice Dutch bike and ride.

It would be great if more people could just work from home.  I don't need to work in the office, in fact, I don't even use the phone, fax or printer or even supplies at all. My job is exclusively online only and could be done remotely with no problem. State jobs like mine  reserve remote access for their more  "elite"  workers. Whatever that means. There was a time when listening to music online was reserved for the more"elite" workers.  Now just about everyone can watch a dvd or stream a movie through Netflix. So maybe one day my cubicle will be in my home.

I would gladly give up my car to work from home and view my chickens in the yard from my home office window. I can guarantee production would sore! I work better without interruptions and my workplace is loaded with distractions. I also wouldn't mind walking to the grocery store if  the city put in a sidewalk. Austin talks a lot of green but the city is starving for sidewalks and bus lines that run more frequently. 

Camp Chickies

I stopped at Buck Moore's yesterday after work and picked up a very gorgeous and quite elegant Lakenvelder chick. William named her Astrud. I filmed Astrud meeting Elvis for the very first time. Their meeting was chatty and a bit intense and reminded me of dialogue in an old black and white film. The way they storm off reminded me of Bette Davis and Joan Crawford so I created the following clip. I guess I have too much time on my hands?


Thank you Austin Chronicle, without this publication caring for the chickies would prove a bit difficult.

One week later...

Elvis is a very chirpy lil girl. I'll be very surprised if Elvis is a male. Based on my past experience female Silkies are nervous and skittish as chicks and the males are strong and silent types even at a week old.

She loves to be held and if she could, would be with me 24/7. I do wonder how Elvis will develop since she is a lone chick and chickens are social animals.  Is there an only chick syndrome? Will she be spoiled and needy and very confused? I take her outside to keep her in touch with PeeWee and Fuzztop but not much bonding happens. I don't want a situation where she ends up like Twinkie. However, the situation is different in that Elvis is bonding with me, unlike Twinkie who had a mother hen and chick mates. I think as long as I am outside when she is foraging she'll be fine.  PeeWee foraged alone for several weeks.

I have thought of getting another chick but since Silkies are not sex-linked, I don't want to mistakenly pick out a rooster only to re-home him later. I still have spend a lot of time observing a Silkie chick before I can determine what sex it is. I have had a full week with Elvis.  I have thought of finding a chick her age of a different breed that is sex-linked but the problem there is PeeWee and Fuzztop (maybe even Elvis) rejecting her as I have heard Silkies, as benign as they are, prefer the company of other Silkies.

Fuzztop and PeeWee are in the middle of a molt so interactions with Elvis are just not a focus. They want cat food and to be left alone until my yard is covered with white feathers. But Elvis and I are having a nice time and it mealts my heart to see her fall asleep on my hand.

Elvis Chick and "Mom"

Poor Fuzztop

She was not happy having her eggs removed and was in distress over Elvis' birth.  I really saw her become bewildered when I took the eggs she had sat on unsuccessfully for 21 days. I carried her to her favorite dust bath area. PeeWee was happy to have her out and about again. After a long dust bath she returned to a new and fresh nest. I hosed the coop down this afternoon and hooked the girls up with fresh hay, newly cleaned nesting cubbies and treats. It will be nice to get back to normal. I forget what disturbance hatching eggs and broody eggs can be.  I really like to have things running smoothly and peacefully in the coop as do the girls. We are all on the same page regarding changes. But lately there have been moments of high drama and I know I speak for them when I say happiness is the two sisters foraging and dust bathing together again.

I have decided to never do hatching eggs again and if the girls go broody well, we'll all have to put up with it. Buck Moore, the feed store down the street, began selling day old chicks again. I'm purchasing chicks from a local store next time I want to increase my flock. No more craigslist hatching eggs, mail order etc...

A Chick Named Elvis-no sound

I'm stronger than I thought. I never thought I'd be able to get through the blood and slime of  Elvis' entrance to the world. Hatching and birth don't always work out but I can't let things die right in front of me. I don't know if what I did was such a good thing in the chicken world. I don't think hardcore chicken people want you helping out weaklings. What's done is done.

Don't count on chickens until they actually hatch

I went to bed last night with the idea that I'd be waking up to a new, fluffy face and more pipping eggs. So far I have been immune to any major problems or pitfalls with chickens.  I lost my favorite hen last year and I struggled to keep her alive through illness when she was a chick but I don't consider this major.  However, I seem to expect major heartbreak all the time and though anxious about this latest batch I had no clue what I'd be waking up to.

This morning I approached the coop feeling spooked. I opened the egg door to find Fuzztop anxious and skittish. There was an odor, another egg had exploded or she had broken it. It appeared to be another dud. But the yolk from this egg had coated everything including the egg that was pipping last night. The baby inside sounded distressed but since it takes several hours  to hatch there was no telling what was really going on.

 Fuzztop was pecking angrily at it and I didn't know if she was trying to help the chick out or kill it. I still didn't know if eggs had exploded or if she had broken them, I didn't know what to think. She was going to kill it pecking at it this way. Her expression was not good. I panicked and brought the egg indoors and turned on the stove for warmth and began to gently and carefully peel back the egg. My hands were shaking and my heart was pounding. I didn't know what I was doing. I could be killing this poor thing, ugh! I had read that blood would be normal but cutting off their supply too fast could result in them bleeding to death.

Not knowing what was exactly what I set the chick free of everything as gently as possible.

 As soon as I got it out and wrapped in a napkin I ran outside for the brooder lamp and clamped it  to the bathroom sink and placed the blood coated, scared, wet little bird there until I could find a box. I had no box! It was on my list of things to do this morning. The metal brooder cage seemed too cold and I had not  bleached it down yet.  I got a paper bag and folded it down, placed it in a laundry basket and clamped the brooder lamp in.

I have been waiting an  our now and the feathers are drying out. Let's say it's a female. Her breathing is strong and she moves around and peeps but has yet to open her eyes. I hope she does soon.  This whole ordeal is really entirely too earthy for me. My hands were covered with blood and this slimy little thing I would freak out my husband, who was still asleep, but I needed his help so I called out. My grandparents suggested I gather the remaining eggs and set them under the brooder lamp. When I looked outside both girls were on the nest.

I sat with this chick from 8am until 1pm. Trying to get chores and errands done in between. I brought in the remaining eggs and placed them under the lamp. One began to hatch then suddenly stopped and died. I took the other three outside where one exploded. Purple, grayish fluid came out and then a strong odor of spoiled egg permeated the air. The other egg was filled with a thick yellow fluid and the other with a thin grey fluid. These eggs never took. This was the  weirdest and most disturbing clutch I have ever had.

The one chick that is still living has been named Elvis. William was playing Elvis all afternoon and this chick was The One and Only. Like Elvis, her sib died at birth. Elvis went through dramatic changes throughout the day. I am still disturbed and heartbroken over the losses but all my love has gone into Elvis who really rocks for cooperating with my efforts this morning.  She still has a long way to go though.