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.

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.

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.  

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.