Philippe Petit is getting his sisters in on the act.
Night before last I saw the bird forms on the rail in the dark, crushed up to the wall of the GH at the opposite end of the branch from the other guineas, and I thought two of the guineas were friends off with the other guineas, but in the light of morning, it turned out Philippe had spent the night roosting, with Perchick.
Not a surprise. Perchick has been perching as high as she can get since she was a tiny chick. These Heritage chickens remember that they’re birds.
But last night, it was Cream Puff! And today, she was watching me approach through the plastic, so I went to the far door to get pictures before she flew down.Then she got on his branch and started walking along. Throwing her wings out for balance periodically like we would our arms. whoa-Whoa! Ok… She’s on her way back now. She’s starting to mess with PP’s balance. Hey. You’re messing up my relax, here.
Whoa, this guy has grown up! I didn’t recognize him for a beat. When I left he was a teenager.These two think well of themselves. No self-esteem issues here.
The Brahmas persist in using the roof of the chickery as a hangout spot, and they’ve had some friends join them. (Snow White and the dwarves were reinstalled in protective confinement in my absence- they sleep in the covered wagon now inside the chickery)Another rooster doing his best guinea impression. Very few chickens are interested in perching so high (6′).The inseparables, Yin and Yang, who seems like only yesterday got their pants, but now look like complete chickens, only miniature. They’re almost always right side by side. And they like to sit up on a hay bale.
Everyone is growing up in the greenhouse. The Chanticleer (and young Silkie) roosters are coming into their oats, so they’re always showing each other their neck ruffs, sorting out their hierarchy.
The Colonel is in retirement, especially since the rooster formerly known as an Oreo has become huge and dominant. He may not be invited to stay. I was hoping being aggressive was a stage he would grow through, as he seemed to be cooling enough a bit, but not enough. We can’t keep any jerks around, if they endanger the health of the flock at large.
The guinea keet (keet in a bowl) is ungrateful and aloof and has forgotten all about being saved, and is also about to transition from brown stripes to black polkadots, which is always a sort of magical transformation. Why are they brown from hatching to mid-size? Camouflage? Does the arrival of their black feathers mean they are adult in the ways that matter while still not fully developed?
When the sun shines, even if it’s minus tens outside, it’s very comfortable in the GH, and the birds lounge around sunning, like it’s summer. They like to lean on the hay bales, so there are lots of hay bale nooks for them.
Guinea update: they did all survive the night, and again skipped dinner (thus not giving me the opportunity to attempt to trap them again) and went to roost where they did night before last, which they also survived. So I’m just moving the GH as fast as I can to put them in it.
It will still take awhile. I’m interested to see whether it will take longer to take it down and then put it up again than it did for me to put it up in the first place. If it were a house, then it’s always faster to just build a new one. I’m thinking the GH could be faster to move than it was to build new, but we shall see. I’m also weaker and less healthy than I was the first time.
I was in there half the day ripping it out, which meant a party of epic magnitude for the young chickens that live in there, the kegger that will not be forgot.
They were always underfoot, interested in the volume of green mass I was dropping to the ground, and the climbing and rummaging and scratching was such as had never been seen before. So good the room was mostly silent, with all the chicks individually occupied throughout. They know every inch of the GH, it is their whole world, so change must be very interesting to them.
Come dusk, I was still working, so I got to see the goings in. I’ve been stuffing the chicks in the coop every night, and although there’s plenty of room, they squabble all night. What the?
So I tried something new. I tacked up cardboard, dividing the coop into apartment A and B, and I put a hen in each one. One (mud head) is legitimately broody, I can’t tell if the other one is for real, but she’s acting as if.
As it got dark, the Chanticleer chicks went to bed first, and they all came along one at a time, long-necking and then hopping up in with Mom.
Or two at a time.
This one chose wrong. And tentatively settled in.
And then, RRTROWWR! She came bursting out, having been forcibly ejected by the resident hen. So she‘s been the nighttime rabblerouser; she doesn’t like the chicks of another colour.
The Chanticleers eventually all loaded in, to the right apartment.It’s very cozy in there. I don’t know how they do it.
That left the Silkies out, who much later started to think about bed, and went trouping around, looking like they might consider the possibility that they might sleep somewhere other than a pile in the corner.
I spent some time trying to marshal them towards the coop, and grabbed a couple and tossed them into Apt A, but they kept missing it, and going around it, then going under it, and a few hopped in on their own, yay! Definite progress.
But I could’ve almost sworn I saw a white one dart into Apt B, which is already suffering overcrowding. I groped around but couldn’t find her, until I took a picture.Aha! Lower right, the couchsurfer.
I have some confidence that they will all go to bed tomorrow, or definitely the next night. Unless the hens decide to switch apartments.
Maybe it has something to do with these little scamps.
It’s also a mystery why they enjoy pepper leaves so much. They must be sweet. The hot pepper plants don’t get defoliated (the eggplant leaves are ragged too). Doesn’t bother me. They leave the peppers alone, and the plants will be out soon anyway.
There are 12 chicks in the GH, with two Silkie moms. They have they’re hands (beaks?) full.
They’re at this point where the Silkie chicks (coming into fluffy tails), are the same size as the Chanticleer babies, who are eventually going to be huge.
There´s a tribe of chicks in the greenhouse. One mom has 5 Chanticleer chicks, and the other has seven Silkies.
They never shut up! PeeppeeppeepPEEPpeeppeeppeepPEEPpeep. Wow. I don´t know how the Moms handle it, unless lots of it is inter-chick chatting that they can tune out.
Otherwise, it´s Mom, Mom, Mom! MOM, Hey Mom, Look at this Mom, Hey Mom can I eat this? What about this? What´s this Mom? Look what I found Mom, Look at me Mom, I flapped! See how fast I can run? Watch this, Mom!
All. Day. Long.
The Silkies are a week older than the Chantis, so they´re all the same size (so far). The Silkies are already entering their scruffball transition from fluff to feathers. There’s three white and four brown.
Most of these chicks I’ve never even touched. They´re going to be the wildest bunch yet. They were born in a box with an open door, and Mom’s been totally in charge from day 1. I don´t even see them every day.
But boy do I hear them.
They’re all so happy and safe in there, savaging the low-hanging tomatoes, rearranging my mulch, tasting stuff. It’s a rooster-free zone. One Silkie rooster is wont to stand looking in the screen door, fantasizing.
The pigs are rooting. I give them a nice new grassy area that looks like a green pig paradise for about an hour. They like to customize their environment, which means turning over every inch of sod. Very diligent workers. And fast.
I was greeted in the morning by news of chicks! HW didn’t know that they were freshly hatched because they were so big, but they hatched overnight.
I knew they were coming, because for the last few days, mama passed up her daily meal and stayed put on her eggs. (This mama was the lady who lunched).
These are baby Chanticleers, future layers. Five hatched of six eggs, wonderful! They are born bigger than the Silkie chicks that are a week old.
I wasn’t sure what to do with these. Already dynamic, a few hours old, I wanted to let them out of the chickery right away but worried that the hens would fight.
I did let them out, lifting the chickery up and over the sunflower that grew up inside of it, and all the chicks scuttled out into squash land. I’ll barely see them anymore.
Later in the day, it seemed that the two tribes had not met; the Silkies on the tomato side and the new babies on the squash side. It’s thick in there. They have plenty to do without encountering each other.