Wednesday, June 28, 2006
Missing chickens
Grrrr.
I neglected to close the hens into their house last night. I know there's some risk, but they really do perch very high (in the windowsill, usually) so occasionally I give in to my laziness. I usually suffer for it, though, because I sleep lightly when I know they have an open door, listening for the sound of squawking hens under attack. I have heard their panic calls before and rushed out to find them upset but nothing visibly the matter - something must have disturbed them, though.
But this morning, we didn't hear squawking, we heard crowing! I've seen one of the hens (the one I sometimes call 'Alpha', which is as close as I've gotten to naming them) doing this before, and there really is no other word for it than crowing. But it's not the raucous crowing of a rooster, just a soft unmistakable crow. I suspect it mostly happens in flocks without roosters, like mine, where the alpha hen takes on some secondary male characteristics (which I hope does not include non-egg-laying). Anyway, it sounded happy and peaceful enough, so I didn't worry about it. I took the dogs out walking a bit later and didn't see the birds but didn't worry too much. before I left for work, though, I thought I should check on them. And they were nowhere to be found - I couldn't see or hear anything of them! I checked behind the henhouse - the area of best cover (chicken-wise) runs into the neighbor's yard and they have gone over there before - but nothing :-( I'm almost certain they will return later this morning or, at worst, this evening, but it's disconcerting to have them just go missing like that.
Bill has decided that he doesn't care for the Sumatras because they are big and combless and mean (the reasons I like them, interestingly:) but he still likes the Phoenix because she's small and pretty and peaceful. He gave approval (urging, actually) for me to liberate them from the pen during the day, and now he is having second thoughts, imagining they are on a lizard-and-snake slaughtering rampage. The problem is, now they have a strong taste for freedom, so I'm not sure that keeping them penned is going to be easy, even if I agree it's desirable - which I really don't. I might want to keep them penned until they start laying eggs, and each morning until they've laid, but they really love eating grass and bugs and such and it seems a shame to deprive them. I love seeing them around, too. ¶ 10:05 AM
I neglected to close the hens into their house last night. I know there's some risk, but they really do perch very high (in the windowsill, usually) so occasionally I give in to my laziness. I usually suffer for it, though, because I sleep lightly when I know they have an open door, listening for the sound of squawking hens under attack. I have heard their panic calls before and rushed out to find them upset but nothing visibly the matter - something must have disturbed them, though.
But this morning, we didn't hear squawking, we heard crowing! I've seen one of the hens (the one I sometimes call 'Alpha', which is as close as I've gotten to naming them) doing this before, and there really is no other word for it than crowing. But it's not the raucous crowing of a rooster, just a soft unmistakable crow. I suspect it mostly happens in flocks without roosters, like mine, where the alpha hen takes on some secondary male characteristics (which I hope does not include non-egg-laying). Anyway, it sounded happy and peaceful enough, so I didn't worry about it. I took the dogs out walking a bit later and didn't see the birds but didn't worry too much. before I left for work, though, I thought I should check on them. And they were nowhere to be found - I couldn't see or hear anything of them! I checked behind the henhouse - the area of best cover (chicken-wise) runs into the neighbor's yard and they have gone over there before - but nothing :-( I'm almost certain they will return later this morning or, at worst, this evening, but it's disconcerting to have them just go missing like that.
Bill has decided that he doesn't care for the Sumatras because they are big and combless and mean (the reasons I like them, interestingly:) but he still likes the Phoenix because she's small and pretty and peaceful. He gave approval (urging, actually) for me to liberate them from the pen during the day, and now he is having second thoughts, imagining they are on a lizard-and-snake slaughtering rampage. The problem is, now they have a strong taste for freedom, so I'm not sure that keeping them penned is going to be easy, even if I agree it's desirable - which I really don't. I might want to keep them penned until they start laying eggs, and each morning until they've laid, but they really love eating grass and bugs and such and it seems a shame to deprive them. I love seeing them around, too. ¶ 10:05 AM
