Tag: chicken stories

Ode to the Rhode Island Red

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment
This is Lucy, who turned out to be my oldest original girl who passed away last year. This was taken when she was just 3 years old. Isn’t she just perfect?

This May, it will be 10 years since I became a chicken mama. I remember the morning those 17 Rhode Island Reds arrived at the post office. I had been researching and dreaming about getting chickens for years, and when I opened that cardboard box full of baby chicks in the early morning light, I fell madly in love. All 17 of our girls were Rhode Island Reds. After researching breeds, I landed on Rhode Island Reds because I read that they handle the cold of Maine well, are considered a high-intelligence breed, and are great layers.

These beautiful chickens had all three of these qualities and were so much more than I ever thought chickens could be. Of course, now I know all chickens are unique and interesting, but at first, I thought my chickens were special. I had always heard people say chickens were dumb, and I knew that was surely not true, but I had no idea just how smart chickens are, especially when it comes to social and emotional intelligence.

It could be the power of that first learning about how magnificent chickens truly are that made me fall so in love with the Rhode Island Red, but I think it’s more than that. Rhode Islands are a fantastic, often overlooked breed. I feel it’s fair to say they are taken for granted.

After all, they lay brown eggs, which, in the chicken world is not nearly as exciting as those blue or green or chocolate or olive eggs. I have certainly spent years chasing the green and blue and olive eggs, and I treasure all of the beautiful colors our girls lay. Still, even after all of the years and the bright colors, there is something so exquisitely beautiful to me about the simple, creamy brown egg of the Rhode Island Red.

Rhode Island Reds lay very, very well–actually too well. One of the first and hardest lessons I learned as a chicken mama is that breeds like the Rhode Island Red, who lay an egg almost every day, have been bred to be that way without consideration for the longevity of the bird. In fact, they are meant to be culled after just 18 to 24 months when they are used commercially (Rhode Island Reds along with ISA Browns are often the ones used commercially), so many of the Rhode Island Reds in our country do not have the greatest genetics in terms of living a long life. Out of the 17 Rhode Island Reds we started with, 7 or 8 were having terrible reproductive issues before they were even 2 years old. It was a blow, and after much research and years of experience, I came to deeply understand that “production breeds” are just not likely to live a long time. You can get lucky. Broody Hen was 8 years old, and Lucy lived to nearly 9. We also had a few girls make it 5 or 6 years, but we lost most of them way too young.

After all of that hard learning early on, I decided to seek out breeds that were not production birds. I didn’t want an egg every day from every hen. I love eggs, but I also wanted my girls to live long full lives. Life on our homestead is a good one. There is protected free ranging, green grass, warm sun, treats, garden time, and lots of love. I want my chickens to get to enjoy that as long as possible and not die early due to reproductive issues or ovarian cancer.* So I found breeds that lay fewer eggs. Most of our chickens are breeds that do not lay super frequently. Instead of 5 to 6 eggs eggs per week like my Rhode Island Reds laid, most of our girls lay just 3 or so times per week, maybe 4 or 5 during peak light, but that is short lived. We also do not light our coop in the winter anymore, so that helps because chickens will not lay eggs without light.

But after so many years of seeking out other breeds, mostly heritage breeds who lay less frequently, I miss the Rhode Island Reds. I have three children of our original girls left who came out looking just like Rhode Island Reds, even though we did not have a RIR rooster–Betty Jr., Joan, and Vivaldi–but that’s all we have. I miss all of those Rhode Island Red girls. I have decided to look into purchasing some heritage Rhode Island Reds.

Rhode Island Reds are an American breed, developed in Rhode Island and Massachusetts in the late 19th century. It was bred to be a dual-purpose bird–for both meat and eggs because Rhode Island Reds tend to be bigger birds. Of course, in recent decades, the commercial RIRs have been bred with a focus just on increased egg laying. The breed was developed by breeding different breeds of Asian chickens with the Brown Leghorn from Italy. According to The Livestock Conservancy, the traditional strains of this breed (heritage birds) are listed as a “watch” breed, which falls in between “threatened” and “recovering.” There are certainly not a lot of heritage RIR breeders out there. I have been searching for years and found just a handful of seemingly reputable breeders. With that in mind, heritage Rhode Island Reds are very expensive chickens.

Still, for my birthday this year, I plan to get myself some. I found a breeder that sells them for $28 per chicken, and I am going to pay it and have some of these beautiful birds again. I have this notion that, when my son is grown, I would like to start a line of heritage RIRs. I have thought about this for years, but I didn’t know if there would be enough interest in the breed. However, since reading they are the “watch” list from The Livestock Conservancy and finding myself missing this fantastic breed so much, I think it’s worth a shot. I need to research more before I invest in a heritage rooster, but I am definitely getting at least 3 or 4 baby girls this summer. I just have to wait for Petty to go broody. She is going to be my go-to mama every year until she stops going broody.

I find myself of late treasuring the things in my life that are simple, sturdy, and good. To me, there is nothing more simple, sturdy, and good than a Rhode Island Red.

***I thought I should mention that there are chicken farmers who argue that there is no connection between the number of eggs laid and ovarian cancer, but my own experience has told me otherwise. Additionally, chickens have been used to study ovarian cancer in humans for years because they ovulate so much, so there is a connection. And, finally, just last year, I read an article in a chicken magazine making the connection between ovulation and ovarian cancer. It just makes sense that that much ovulation is going to increase the chances of cancer in the cells.

She watches the skies.

~ Crystal Sands ~ 2 Comments

This morning, we had a near death experience with a hawk. I did not see it, but we clearly had a hawk come in and make a try for one of our chickens.

Ron and I were playing cards while drinking our tea and coffee. The morning chores had been done a while. It was raining, so Ron said he was surprised when Boudica didn’t want to come inside. He said she looked like she meant to work this morning, so Bairre came in the house after chores but not Boudica. We were just about finished with a long game with our cards when Boudica started going off in a big way.

I didn’t run since it seemed like she was barking at the woods and we have good fences, but I did stop what I was doing and head outside. The stress of the situation hit me as soon as I got outside and heard everything. I couldn’t see the chickens at all, which was a big worry, and the birds in the trees were making very weird noises. It sounded like distress. That sound, coupled with Boudica, who was completely freaking out at this point because she was in a different fence and couldn’t get to the chickens, put me to work.

I ran toward the front, forested part of the chicken yard. I couldn’t see anything in the trees, but only a few people were in the coop. I figured everyone had to be in the woods.

When I got there, about half the flock came out running, some went to the raspberry bushes to hide, and others ran all the way to coop. I knew the situation must have been bad because they were all making terrified noises. Even Mary Jane, who was running by the way, was making the strangest noise I have ever heard her–or any chicken–make.

As I made my way into the trees, more chickens came out, and then I heard movement above my head. I saw a gray hawk fly out of a neighbor’s tree that is right above our chicken yard. It flew back toward my neighbor’s house. I am about 90 percent sure it was a Cooper’s hawk. It’s almost always a Cooper’s hawk in our woods.

Then, I started hunting. Ron came outside, and I filled him in. “Boudica is amazing!” he said.

“It’s the truth!” I replied.

I kept looking, and, eventually, Ron came to help. We both agreed that, surely, since I had seen the hawk, that it didn’t get anyone; still, I would feel better finding all of the littles. They are all nearly grown, but Tuesday, Wednesday, and Lenore, are still pretty small and could easily be carried off by a hawk. I will never hatch fall babies again. It’s warm enough now in Maine to do it, but they are pretty little still during hawk season. They have an extra risk.

I could find all of the littles except for Tuesday and Wednesday. Lenore and Annie were in the raspberry bushes, and Clara was in the coop. I found poor little Jacqueline out by herself by the front fence, trying to get into the coop the wrong way. She was completely panic stricken, so I reached down to just pick her up and carry her to the coop. When I did, she reacted violently. Her little head turned around, and she got me and my robe with her beak. She mainly got my robe, but it still hurt. She was just about to get me again, when I started talking sweet to her. She released her vice grip on my robe, and I felt her feet relax. That poor little baby had been traumatized. Because she was completely alone, she may have been a target, but I am not sure. I just know I have never seen a hen that traumatized.

I was still looking for Tuesday and Wednesday when I found Piatigorsky hiding so still in the bushes in the woods. She must have had a close call too. She was so still, I thought she was dead at first. I had to say her name three times before she moved. I reached in to pick her up, and she just buried her head into me. She is still the sweetest girl, and I am so glad she is okay. Next, I found Faure in a similar situation, but she didn’t want me to pick her up. I did have to walk her to Ron, who then walked her to the coop.

Ron and I continued to communicate as we gradually found people. Still, neither of us had found Tuesday and Wednesday. Ron told me to try to coop one more time and check the nest boxes. When I did, I found Wednesday. I was so happy to find her but then also a little more worried that there was no Tuesday. The chances of a hawk getting away with one baby in the time it took me to get out there was not zero.

Ron and I kept looking. We made our way back into the woods that we had already searched and searched when Tuesday came walking out of camouflage it seems. There she was, the cutest little thing I have ever seen–only aged a few years after that much stress. She stayed right with us as we walked her back to the coop.

“We had better go thank Boudica extra hard,” Ron said, and I agreed. We both made the biggest fuss over her, and she was so proud. I cannot express the depths of my gratitude to her in words, but I think she felt it. It is a gratitude I felt in my chest and in my bones this morning.

“She watches the skies,” Ron said. “It’s remarkable.”

I agreed.

It is humbling beyond all measure to be in the presence of such greatness. How lucky am I to have Boudica as my dear friend and partner on this homestead?

*It feels important that I add a quick note at the end of the story about Boudica and her magnificence. Boudica is a Great Pyrenees, a Livestock Guardian dog. She was not born knowing how to protect our flocks. She learned. It is a myth that you do not have to train LGDs. Great Pyrenees are the smartest dogs I have ever encountered. They have been bred for thousands of years to have strong critical thinking skills and to think for themselves without humans around. They learn so quickly, but they do have to be taught. Far too many Great Pyrenees are surrendered to shelters because people do not understand this.

Six Little Hens and the Perks of Barnyard Mixes

~ Crystal Sands ~ 2 Comments

I would not think it possible, but I am writing tonight with the best news! I became pretty sure after spending some time in close study last week, but I am sure now. Petty has raised six little hens. Every single one of the babies is a girl, it seems! I am going to have to write that again. Every single one is a girl! Can you believe it? It’s like a chicken miracle!

The last one that I thought, perhaps, was the only boy turned out to be a girl too. Her comb developed a little early, so it was bigger than the others for a while. She is also a big girl, so that made me think maybe boy. I mean, you can’t get six girls when you have six baby chicks, so I thought this was definitely my one boy. Still, I did wonder because I never saw boy behavior. I saw very little chest bumping and very little aggressiveness.

The best part (and I can’t believe there is anything better than getting six little hens) is that this little girl is from Pumpkin. I don’t know if you remember Pumpkin, but she is the one who disappeared one summer for several weeks and showed up squawking outside of our bedroom window in the middle of the night.

I love Pumpkin. She’s chill and sweet and curious, and when I was choosing eggs for Petty to hatch this year, I thought I might try a Pumpkin egg. She is getting close to five years old, and we do not have any babies from her. I thought it would be so great to get one.

When this baby was born, I couldn’t tell she was a Pumpkin baby because she looked all Welsummer. If you look at the picture above, there are two little Welsummer babies with the stripes on their backs. She is the lighter one. She looked just like Rooster, but now that she’s older, I can see she is from our Wyandotte line. Pumpkin is from the line.

Our Wyandottes were beautiful and were the first ones I ever bought after our original Rhode Island Reds, but they all passed away over time. Well, one poor girl was a victim in one of our two hawk attacks we have had over the years. Gosh, that was rough.

I found a picture of two of our Wyandottes when they were little, so you could see them. Ours were Red-Laced Blue Wyandottes, and they were so beautiful. I miss them so much looking at this picture. They were Hecate, Hecate’s Sister, and Little Miss. Little Miss was a mama hen one time, and she was a pretty terrible mama. She had just one baby, and she was a very, very bossy mama. That poor baby! We still have that baby, S’more, but she lays very low out there in the flock.

As you might imagine, I am over the moon to see the history of our flock right here in this beautiful new member. She is so beautiful and very unique. She is orange from the Welsummer in her (Pumpkin is very orange and only looks like a Wyandotte in her comb and body shape), but you can so clearly see the Wyandotte in this new baby’s feather design. I can’t even believe this good genetic luck. We have four birds from our Wyandotte line–Pumpkin, S’more, Phoenix, and Circe–and none of them have the beautiful lace design of the Wyandottes. But here this one is in all of her glory. She is like a breed of her own–an Orange-Laced Gray Wyandotte.

Thankfully, because she was raised by Petty, she already likes me a lot. I’m determined to make her love me. I named her Annie. Isn’t she magnificent? I love barnyard mixes.

Petty Lets Go

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

Petty’s babies are nearly 13 weeks old. A week ago, we moved the family to the coop, and the transition went very well. I was worried the first night because Petty didn’t sleep with her babies, but we discovered that she would sleep on the roost and then, first thing in the morning, go find her babies and hand out with them all day.

It was the sweetest thing. Every morning, when I opened the little coop door, the babies would dart out first and follow me to their special bowl of food, and within about five minutes, Petty would show up and make sure the other chickens didn’t eat her babies’ food.

This morning, she was slow to get to her babies but still came to them. However, later in the day, I saw little Clara out in the middle of the yard by herself, and when I collected eggs this afternoon (all two of them), Ruby’s baby, who still has no name, was hanging out with one of the Faverolles.

Then, I saw Petty. She was hanging out with Rooster. I dropped what I was doing and ran inside to get her some treats. I am going to miss being so close to Petty, and I am hoping we can stay fairly close if I just keep singling her out. I worry though because she was surely one who blended into the crowd before becoming a mama.

I was so hopeful when I chose Petty to be the mama to our fall babies. She is the daughter of Mary Jane and Rooster, two of the smartest chickens I have ever seen. I figured Petty just had to be smart, and I was right. She’s brilliant, so chill, and I loved that she was wise enough to just let me and Ron be her helpers. Because of this, her babies are not wild and afraid of me, and next year, when we hatch babies, I will hope for Petty to be a mama again. She seemed to handle it beautifully. She doesn’t even look all ragged and stressed at the end of it all like all the other mamas.

I hope Petty’s babies remain healthy, strong chickens. They are doing great so far. And we have four girls for sure and maybe one or two boys. They are such mutts that I can’t tell if they are boys or girls, even at 13 weeks. I guess I know when I hear the crow.

Oh, and speaking of crows, our little black rooster we kept from Ruby’s hatch is doing great overall. He’s so pretty and doing well, despite Dvorak constantly “putting the run on him,” as Ron says. The cutest thing happened though. Because he’s the youngest and just barely over being a baby himself at 5 and 1/2 months, he kept trying to hang out with Petty and her babies when they joined the flock.

At first, I thought he was after Petty, trying to mate with her, but after a while, it became clear he just wanted to be a baby too. Petty just let him hang out because she’s so chill. I could surely learn some life lessons from Petty.

Ruby’s Ways

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

Ruby is molting, and it’s a pretty big molt. Normally, when a chicken is molting, they are extra grumpy or stressed or cranky. I can see no difference in Ruby. She’s always kind of grumpy, stressed, and cranky, but she looks extra cute. It’s like she’s covered in little balls of cotton, and I just want to touch her feathers. Obviously, that is a hard no from Ruby.

She is back to asking to be let out of the coop in the morning into the front and driveway area. Since Petty and her babies finally moved in with the main flock, Ruby wants her old stomping grounds back, and we oblige her.

The best thing is when she’s ready to go back to the coop in the afternoons. She watches the front door, and when she sees me walk by in the window, she charges the door. When I see her do this, I get my shoes and go try to let her in to the coop.

I saw try because, sometimes, other chickens are in her way, and she won’t go into the coop at that time. I have to keep an eye and check back later. Ruby will do what Ruby will do and on her own time.

Yesterday, she did this when I walked by the front door, so I grabbed my shoes and the egg basket and went to collect the eggs while I was outside. I went into the coop, and Ruby followed behind me. I was busy collecting the eggs when I saw Ruby hop up into a nest box behind me.

The next thing I knew, that chicken pecked me, like hard, on the arm. “Ruby!” I said. “Why?” She stopped and looked at me, and I had a feeling that she was doing it to keep me in line. I would love any insights if you have any and know Ruby from her stories, but I think she’s maybe just really, really bossy.

This is Silver.

~ Crystal Sands ~ 5 Comments

When Silver was born at the beginning of the pandemic in 2020, I really needed her to be a girl. I was hatching eggs for other people in our area because there was a shortage of baby chicks, and when Silver was born, she was the shiniest silver I had ever seen. With her little wet feathers, she looked like metal.

“Oh, I’m keeping this one,” I said to Ron. I just need her to be a girl. I think I said out loud “Please be a girl. Please be a girl.” about fifty times when she was a baby. You can imagine my joy when I started to realize she was, indeed, a girl.

Sadly, she was and still is pretty shy and skeptical about me. I try all of the time to win her over–and I am making good progress, so that’s nice. Usually, when some of the chickens would rather keep their distance, I can win them over with food and admiration. You wouldn’t think admiration would work, but it does.

Case in point, this fall, I have experienced two hens showcasing their new feathers to me after their molt. Truly, Silver hardly ever lets me take her picture, and she was fully posing for me this weekend. I could see how proud she was, how happy she was. I made a big deal over her, and she loved it.

And, it was great because I love how I captured a picture of her looking right at me, and you can just see how smart she is. Silver has a lot going on in there. I study chickens quite a bit and probably barely know the half of it. There is a lot of new research coming out about chicken intelligence, and I am both fascinated and thankful.

This is my beautiful hen, Silver, and I am so glad to know her.

Just the Chicken Coop

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

I have many stories to tell from a busy weekend on the homestead. I have stories about Brussel sprouts and mama chickens and sweet dogs. I also had the chance to spend almost the whole day yesterday with the chickens, and sweet little Silver was curious about my phone and let me take a ton of pictures. I have to share that photo shoot this week because she’s a gorgeous chicken.

But, tonight, though I wanted to write, I cannot. I have a date with a husband and a son and a Shakespeare play, so I will just share this picture I took in the chicken yard yesterday. We have to re-paint the coop before winter (nothing like waiting until the last minute), but I still love it. Mostly, I love all of the space our chickens have. Our chickens live a very good chicken life, so much so that when each new chicken is born I tell them, “Congratulations. You have won the being-born-a-chicken lottery.” It’s not the best place ever, but it’s up there. Trees, leaves, garden, dirt, worms, grass, and lots of bugs. That’s pretty good stuff!

Petty, Super Mama

~ Crystal Sands ~ 1 Comment

Petty’s babies are getting so big that they are nearly as big as she is, but she is still fiercely being a mama. It’s fantastic to see, but we have this tiny flock of nearly grown chickens running around the driveway and garage. This means we have chicken poop everywhere. Last week, Ron said, “Aren’t Petty’s babies like 8 or 9 weeks old now, old enough to go with the flock.”

I couldn’t remember how old the babies are, but I could see they are big enough to go in with the flock. Petty will just have to stay with them within the flock, but this is a hard thing to do. Petty loves her life living in the front yard and loves being a mama with her little gang. I was said but had to admit it was probably time. Most of our hens will be finished with babies at about 6 weeks. I just counted the weeks and realized Petty’s babies are 10 weeks old!

Still, I’m so worried about the change for her.

This is Petty and her gang from a few days ago. Don’t they truly look like a gang?

Today, I did the deep clean on the coop. It was epic and exhausting, but I made it all super clean to make space in there for Petty’s crate. Tonight, we put the crate in there, and Petty will be able to stay with her babies in the crate at night, but during the day, they will have to be a little gang within the flock.

I think the babies are going to be fine. Our flock is kind, and the babies have been wanting to get into the coop for weeks. In fact, today when I was cleaning, Petty’s babies made a run on the coop and played and played in there. However, I am very worried about Petty. She gets into fights when other hens even get near her babies. She is the fiercest, kindest, most wonderful mama hen I have ever seen. It has been a joy of my life getting to know Petty these last 10 weeks. I can see for sure that she is absolutely at the top in terms of chicken intelligence I have seen.

Oh, and speaking of intelligent chicken, Mary Jane is still doing well. In fact, she’s a little better than she had been. She likes the cooler weather. Today, when I opened the coop back up after the deep clean, she came in and just played and played and even jumped into a high nest box. I was impressed she was getting around so well. That chicken is amazing, and her daughter is really amazing too!

There are times in my life I feel like such a failure. Recently, I have really been struggling with this. I try to remember that I am a work in progress, but sometimes, I feel down that I didn’t do more with my life. I don’t know what that more is. It’s just this feeling. But, as I write these words and think about how lucky I am that I am a human who gets to know Mary Jane and her amazing daughter, Petty, I feel really lucky. What more could I want? I mean, really.

Saying Goodbye to Vanilla

~ Crystal Sands ~ 5 Comments

This morning, when I went outside to let out the chickens, I wondered why things were so quiet in the coop. When I opened up the little coop door to let everyone out into the chicken yard, right at the door was a dead chicken. It was sweet Vanilla. I wrote about her a couple of weeks ago. I gave her a spa day then but realized she was near the end.

I had this small hope though that she would be like Mary Jane and would surprise me and somehow keep going despite having some health issues due to old age and meat bird genetics. But Vanilla seemed really, really tired yesterday, and her comb was dark. I gave her a pet, but she acted weird about it. I decided to leave her alone. I wish I would have said goodbye better.

I am going to try to tell myself, however, that she must have known I loved her. She had a lot of spa days and lots of treats, and I always made sure she got some of the good treats when I would feed scraps to the chickens, even when she was really slowing down. Surely, she knew. I hope so. I think she had a good life, and it was quite long for a pardoned meat chicken. She was five years old.

Interestingly, after I moved her little body, the rest of the flock wouldn’t go near the door where she had been and refused to leave the coop. They were sad too, or at least really out of sorts about it. I used treats and finally got them out.

It’s hunting season, so we couldn’t take Vanilla to the woods to feed a fox or somebody. Ron and my son dug a grave for her. I am really going to miss that sweet girl.

Yoshi’s First Egg

~ Crystal Sands ~ Leave a comment

I won’t write much tonight, but I had to share a picture of Yoshi’s first egg. Yoshi is our pardoned meat chicken. She’s doing very well. The flock seems to like her pretty well, which is great for a newcomer. Her egg is the smaller, light-colored one. I put it next to one of my favorite eggs for comparison.