Bel being Bel--the movie

Bel speaks for herself!

Chickens on Strike!! Demand more benefits!

No eggs.

I think the girls laid one or two more eggs after the last round of raccoon attacks.
We moved their night time roost into the porch until we secured the coop. They didn't seem too eager to returning to the scene of the attack. But this week, Bel just upped and walked back into the nesting box one night. Cleo followed with very little prodding.

But no eggs.

They have good food, they eat, they scavenge the yard. The have discovered the compost box--a virtual chicken heaven if you ask me, with worms and bugs and scraps of food. They are garbage divers ala natural.

But no eggs.

Now Cleo is molting and Bel is broody. What a combination of hormones and, well, . . . feathers.

And no eggs.

Spoiled chicken

The girls have been treated to sleeping in the front porch temporarily while we raccoon proof their coop. They go back out as soon as the cock crows (so to speak) and stay out until it starts getting dark.

Have we spoiled them?  I am beginning to think that they think they own this place.

Tonight, at dusk, they were at the back door, not just squawking, but trying to fly through the window--luckily there is a screen, although Bel has pushed her way through on of the screens on the porch to let herself out in the morning and then stands out there squawking and get Cleo worked up.

They may have bird brains but these chicks have me trained well. Of course I brought them to their roost in the porch. This will have to stop or I'll be in the chicken coop next!    

Twin Cities Tour of Chicken Coops

I was pleasantly surprised by the number of urban chicken people so close to home. Nothing like getting fellow chicken people telling stories, exchanging ideas and experiences, giving and taking advise. Talking with people who really know what it is like to be greeted in the morning by your chickens makes you feel, well, not as odd anyway.

I did find out the Cleo was a mistaken identity. She is not a Marans, though she does look like one, she is actually a Barred Rock and she has many of her kind in the neighborhood. I wonder if we got all the Barred Rocks and the Buff Orpingtons together in one place, would they know who their human was? They say that sheep know their shepherd's voice, what about chickens? The problem is, if they don't recognize us, how would we know which ones are ours? You know they all look alike. Do we all look alike to them too?

We saw a lot of ideas for improvements and we saw the benefits of what we do.

Interestingly, we are the only ones who seem to be bothered by the raccoons. Lots of hawk stories though.

A right handed and a left handed chicken

I finally located the right breed of chickens to Bel and Cleo.

 Bel is a Buff Orpington.

Cleo is a Marans.

Not that this really makes any difference-- in the long run they are still Bel and Cleo, Belina and Cleopatra.

There differences, besides color of feathers add up to Cleo's eggs are darker brown than Bel's, which are more beige. Bel tends to be more brooder and Cleo is more bullyish. Bel is noisier. She lets the whole neighborhood know that she has laid her egg. Cleo just takes it in stride.

  One difference that I have noticed lately though has sparked my attention. When I pick them up I place my left hand on their belly and my right hand behind their legs. I gently nudge them onto my right hand. They seem to grab on to my hand easier than when I come from the front. The difference is that when I pick up Cleo she sits comfortably on my right hand an rides to where ever I take her. Bel on the other hand (pun intended) turns herself around so she can ride on my left. Could it be that Bel is a leftie?

Last weekend I was informed by my left handed son-in-law-to-be that left handed people are smarter...of course he may be biased. But lefties do get picked on more and ignored by righties, which is similar to how Cleo treats Bel. . .

the secret life of chickens: three against one (or six, counting humans and chi...

the secret life of chickens: three against one (or six, counting humans and chi...: Detroit: It is a nice quite town, no sign of gang attacks. I had a relatively quiet weekend, relaxed, ate, shopped, showered (for a wedding)...

three against one (six, counting humans and chickens) or raccoon returns with friends

Detroit: It is a nice quite town, no sign of gang attacks. I had a relatively quiet weekend, relaxed, ate, shopped, showered (for a wedding), and slept.


Minneapolis: Gang of three raccoons tried to devour chickens, but for the help of their loyal guardian, Beyonce (and sons #1 & 2, and random niece). 

4:30am:  On a relatively quiet night, in a relatively quiet neighborhood, all hell broke loose as the Raccoon Three, complete with masks, switch blade claws which they maneuver faster than the most adept opposing thumbs, and chemical warfare, slip quietly into the backyard home of Bel & Cleo. It is thought that this was a gang initiation. The youngest of the three was sent to make the attack.


The Beyonce, Guardian Dog knew something was askance and the three humans followed her out the door.


Beyonce shoots into action, while two of the Raccoon Three stayed in the tree watching and the third, hovered around the coop. Witnesses said Beyonce was able to leap tall buildings (the chicken coop) in a single bound. She leaped over the coop and attacked that raccoon. The raccoon was screaming and Beyonce had full control with her mouth around it. She shook the raccoon and landed it on the deck. By this time it could barely move. It lay on the deck, wounded but still breathing it crawled toward the tree where his homies were watching. Son #1 tried to get Beyonce in the house but she took off after that raccoon and shook it till it died at the foot of the tree with the two in the tree ready to pounce. 

After the kill she was covered in blood; son #1 brought her inside to assess the injuries but found none.

Meanwhile, after Beyonce was in the care of son #1, son #2 attempts to rescue Bel and Cleo. They were safely tucked in their nesting box the whole time. He took Cleo inside to the porch for the rest of the night and came back out to darkness in the backyard. Still nervous about the two raccoons in the tree, he made his way to rescue Bel while random niece uses her camera to flash light at the raccoons to make sure they stayed treed while the chickens are rescued and brought to safety.

I return from Detroit at midnight. Two chickens greeting me at the door in the porch where they have spent the last 4 nights. Daytime home is still the backyard. 

By the way, they continue to lay eggs. They know they are safe with Beyonce.

P.S.: Rumors of Beyonce being pregnant are not true.  

The Dog is not a chicken!

Once again, the raccoon strikes. This time the fight was intense, but Beyonce the Chicken Guardian stood her ground to protect her flock. Now let's go to a live interview with the heroine and the girls she saved.

Kluks: Cleo, can you tell us what happened in your own words?

Cleo: bawk bawk bawk bawk bawk bawk bawk bawk bawk bawk bawk bawk

Kluks: ok, ok, how about in human words?

Cleo: I just bawk, flew out the nesting box door when I heard that vermin coming. bawk, I have been there, done this. bawk bawk, I wasn't going to let that vermin get me again. bawk. guess you might say I flew the coop, bawk bawk.

Kluks: so you left Bel in the box?

Cleo: Bawk, bawk. I figured she follow me.

Kluks: Bel, tell us what happened when the raccoon came into the box.

Bel: Well, Bawk, I screemed bloody murder bawk bawk. Next thing I know the guardian dog came barking something fierce, Bawk bawk. And the ugly monster turned and ran out the door. Bawk bawk.

Kluks: So your saying Beyonce saved you?

Bel: Bawk bawk, Yes I guess she did. and then she came and checked to make sure we were ok. Bawk bawk, I was so scared, bawk, chicken , you might say, but I feel better bawk knowing that our guardian is here for us bawk bawk.

Kluks: Well that's the chicken story now let's hear from our heroine.  Beyonce, what is it about you that makes do this?

Beyonce: Rell, RI ron't row. RI rust ron't ru ree ra rirls ret urt. Reir ry ramiry rand ru rake rare orf ramiry.

Kluks: Ran ru, I mean can you tell us what happened out there?

Beyonce:  RI Reared ra rirls rying ror rhlp ro RI rot ry ruman ru ret re out. RI ran around ra roop and rure erough rere ras rat rermin arain. Ruoooo.

Kluks:and what rid ru roo, I mean what did you do?

Beyonce: RI rumped orn rat rermin, rand ripped rim rover. RI rade rots rof roise rarking rand ervry ring. RI rot ra rew rood rites rin rand rhe rot re. ree, right rere arove re eye. arrhooo. RI rwon rough. RI rased rim right rout rof rere.

Kluks: The chickens think your something special. they don't know why, but you take care of them. Can you tells us why you do it?

Beyonce: Re rew rup rogether. Rand RI ron't ret rany rermin ret rhose rirls. rand RI ram ra rood righter.

Kluks: So how are you feeling today after fighting off that raccoon?

Beyonce: Rell, RI rhad ru ro ru ra roctor rand RI rhink re ruck re rin ra rut. RI ron't row rhough, ry ruman ras ratching re  rehind ra ears. RI rove rit rhen rhe roes rhat.

Kluks: And rhat's rhe rway rit ris. Rood right.

Chickens and other life stories

I haven't been here since Easter! Sorry girls, your lack of egg production put me in a fog of depression. Do you know what it's like having to admit that you're not laying eggs like it says on the box cover; "These chickens will lay one egg every 24-36 hours as long as they are healthy." So when one of you stops, I feel like I must be doing you wrong somehow. Now that you are both laying again on schedule, I realize it was probably the intense heat of July, and the trauma of me being gone ALL THE WAY TO INDIA for almost all of June and a good part of May, after all I wasn't really fully here the few weeks before and the after my trip--kind of like what the kids go through going to camp but they usually do better during those times, they actually speak to each other, though maybe it was because  they actually did the traveling. Is that the problem? Did you want to go to India with me?? Let me tell you, they don't treat chickens as nicely there as you are treated here--at least not the ones I saw. You are much better off here. But now you are both laying again in a regular fashion and Bel, since it was you that had the most difficulty, you sure are proud of yourself when you lay. Cleo, you just take it in stride, like "I am just being a chicken. No big deal."

Recent News: I came out of the house one day last week to find a hawk sitting on your coop. You both knew it too because you were hiding in your nesting box, right under the hawk's nose. So we now have string and vcr tape string across the coop area. Seems to be working but last night I found a hawk tail feather. Did we have another visit girls? You two had better keep your noses up when outside the coop area because I can't protect you out there.

One more thing girls, I may be a little distracted--just a warning, because I am going through one of those life marking events: I am going to be the MOTHER OF THE BRIDE! I know, no big deal, but do you know what your grandmother went through before you were hatched. Not that I am going to be a grandma yet but I don't know what chickens call it when there is a new rooster in the house. Don't fret. It will calm down again after mid October so please just keep laying those eggs.

Happy Easter from Bel & Cleo

Here is your  Easter wish from Bel & Cleo.  Enjoy the link and happy season to all our friends.

Funny page from a friend

Dear friends pakluks recommends the following page: http://www.terrisfp1.com/holidays/chick.html This FUNNY Page! LOL!

Bel is coming out of the Closet??

This week has been a pretty stressful one in chicken life at our coop. But there has been an interesting change developing. I think Bel is trying to crow in the morning. It is not a clear "cock-a-doodle-doo," it's more like "rrrh-e-rrrh-rrhh."

I have noticed that she has taken on the strong role in the coop. Cleo has been passive and illusive where she used to be more aggressive.  She plays hard to get when it's time to go back in the pen--something that Bel used to do. Now Bel wants first dibs on the food and runs ahead of Cleo to get it.

Bel is behaving differently, like she has developed a case of blooming male hormones. It's funny, because she is the broody one of the two.

Well, I have nothing against trans-gender chickens, but if she turns rooster on me, the laws change and we have to get permission to have her/him from everyone in a two block radius. At least she doesn't crow until after 8am. If she/he started at 4am I would be worried --and tired.

She is still laying eggs. Cleo hasn't stated yet. I think they both need a chicken whisperer. Of course if Bel wants to be Bil, I will still love her/him. 
Hopefully this is a passing phase in the secret lives of my chickens.

The survivors of that dark night or PRTD (Post Raccoon Trauma Disorder)

We are settling back into springtime routine. Cleo is not laying eggs yet after the trauma of last week, but she seems to have survived otherwise. Yes, I believe she is suffering from PRTD. She is not so sure of herself when the shadows of evening fall. She is quieter, seeking more inner space, skittish of strange sounds, and not eating as well as she did. She doesn't fight over the best foods, letting Bel get most of the barley and rye (by-products of beer brewing). She did fight over an apple core though so there is hope. She has laid only one egg in the last week where Bel has kept up with the one egg a day routine. But she is healing.

Today, the sun is shining and it's warm and dry outside so the girls have been playing in the dirt, preening themselves, and picking at some sprouting greens. So It is photo time!

  

                                     

                                       Cleo strutting in the sun

          


  Bel  kicking up some garden mulch.                                                                   

                And our heroine, Beyonce, the true chicken guardian catching some rays to keep up her tan.

Beyonce, Chicken Gaurdian saves the night.

It has been way too long since I posted, apologies aside, Bel & Cleo made it through the winter but nearly did not make it through last night.

3:00am: "squawk, squaaawk, I am screaming, can't you hear there is a varmint trying to snuff out my existence." (that would be Cleo).

Beyonce and I bolt out of our sleep and ran out the back door, neither of us were wearing anything on our feet and if you know Beyonce, you know she hates getting her feet wet--not only had it been raining, but the ice was still on the ground left over from  a whole winter's worth  of snow (the north side of the deck). Tim was there right behind us. Beyonce ran around the coop.

Beyonce: "Ruff, ruff, ruff, I raw rat rarmint rith my Reo in its routh. I reached in and rabbed the thing. I rulled it out of the ricken crage, rrrh. I ras rad. rext ring I row, we ras rrestling and rrighting. Rit ras rissing and I raid it on its rack. My rumens raid it ras a racoon. Ruff, ruff rururruff, it ras gone."

Cleo: "Bawk, she really did save me, bawk. Of course I was glad. Bel hid up on the bawk bawk perch so that varmint couldn't see her bawk. We were both glad to get inside the coop. Bawk, bawk"

The chickens are fine, The coop has been tightened and varmint proofed. All possible entries are secure. But Beyonce, Chicken Guardian, will remain alert.

Ruff ruff! Rust ry and rome rack you rarmint!

Chicken Fight

Chicken hormones--not the kind that you get when you buy chicken from your average grocery store--but the ones that make one want to reproduce have invaded the quiet of our girls little house in the city.

Bel is broody again.

The combination of her change in attitude and being contained in small quarters till the snow melts has created much tension between the two girls.

Now, when I feed them, I have to take Bel out of the nesting box (or she won't eat or drink) and bring her down to the food. Apparently, she bothers Cleo. Cleo can't handle Bel's weird clucks and skittishness. Bel can't handle the sudden change from the security of a dark, warm, cozy nesting box to the larger coop.

Cleo is the aggressor. She lunges (and I mean lunges, she bit me the last time) at poor Bel who doesn't understand the nature of her hormonal changes.

How do you teach a chicken that she can't beat up her housemate?

So my only option is to put Cleo out while Bel gets some food and water before she heads back to her nest. It's below zero here so I hope this doesn't last long.