Brussels sprouts and possum poop

I had hoped that Terry would have shot a big buck this weekend so I could blog about that. He has had several shots, but no hits. At least we know the deer are around, even if not within range.

Saturday was a lovely, sunny, 50 degree afternoon. Hilda and I went out to harvest the very last of the garden. The Danish ballhead cabbage and the Brussels sprouts didn’t do diddly squat during the hot dry summer. I left them in to see if they would amount to anything in the cooler fall weather. Most of the cole family can stand a freeze. Many of them become sweeter after the frost. Some of the cabbages still hadn’t tightened up, but seven of them had cute little baseball to softball-sized heads. The Bubbles Brussels sprouts were still pathetic. Diablo and Jade fared better, but it was hardly a bumper crop, and most were small. We dug the roots out while we were at it. If Terry decides the soil conditions are right, he can still Rototill before winter.

Brussels sprouts (var. Jade) on the stem

I trim the leaves off the stalks while wearing an orange cap, just in case  hunter might think I was a deer in red plaid.

The chickens did a pretty good job cleaning out the herb bed. Hilda took the spading fork in to pull up the parsley roots. Ellie helped by scratching the soil and eating worms.

Ellie helps Hilda clean out the herb bed.

The last thing Hilda did was to dig the crosnes (pronounced “crones”). These odd little tubers are prized by trendy chefs. To me, they are more work than they are worth. Hilda has a much higher tolerance for tedious work.

The crosnes are the white tubers. Hilda's finger is  in the top of the picture for scale.

We had a melancholy moment contemplating the empty garden. Fall is a sad time for us with the plants dying back and settling down into dormancy. I feel better when we get a nice layer of snow. Then it seems more like the earth is sleeping all cozy under its white blanket.

The empty garden. In the foreground, a pink tray with the last mini-cabbages and the pile of waste leaves topped with Brussels sprout spines.

Hilda usually leaves the “egg picking” to me on the weekends because she gets to do it all week.  I checked twice yesterday and found a total of three eggs, but every time I looked, there was a hen in the east nest box. We don’t usually disturb the hens to check for eggs underneath since we check several times a day. I figured it was a slow egg day and left the last check for Hilda. I took my cabbages and Brussels sprouts in the house and started cleaning them. I heard a knock at the door followed by Hilda calling. “Which is the favorite nest box,” she asked.

“The east one. Why?”

She held out the egg basket with SIX eggs in it. That brought the total to nine for the day.

Here’s our nature moment for this blog. We had noticed a possum hanging around under out bird feeder every night. Terry brought it to my attention that the ground was getting covered with possum poop. I had never seen possum poop. It seems to have an awful lot of fibrous material in it, as if the possum had been eating a lot of grass. I looked it up in the poop book (actually A Field Guide to Animal Tracks by Olaus J. Murie), hoping to confirm Terry’s identification. The book said, “Opossum scats are unfortunately not distinctive and will vary in accordance with the kind for food eaten.” Is there any omnivore for which this is not true?

Possum poop with sunflower seeds for scale.

 

Maximum productivity

We finally had 10 eggs in one day yesterday. In my last post, I speculated that it wasn’t the same Araucana that didn’t lay every day. We have revised that hypothesis. Hilda found a small egg on the floor of the coop last week. We hadn’t seen an egg out of the next boxes since the onset of laying. Terry guessed at the time that these first eggs were so small that they caught the hen by surprise. We have not had any reason to reject that hypothesis. Therefore, this egg outside the nest suggests that one hen was slow to mature. I think it was Ina. She’s the smallest, and I had never seen her in a nest box. Hilda saw Ina peering into the nest boxes one day and sitting in one the next.



I was able to get a photo of three hens in the nest boxes all at once. Unfortunately, Nigella was facing the wrong way. It is very cute to open the back door and have three hens poke their heads out.

Left to right: Jennifer, Bridget and Nigella in the nest boxes.

We are having an unseasonably warm day today. There is, however, a strong wind from the east, so the girls can’t quite make up their minds whether they want to be in or out.

As the girls have grown up, they have become less distinctive. I’m sure it’s exactly what a breeder wants—a breed true to its breed, but it’s gotten very hard to tell the two fat ladies apart and distinguish among the Dominques. I finally broke down and ordered leg bands. Jane did the research for me. Since she retired, she has become my go-to person for searching the internet. I needed three leg bands, one for one of Light Brahma and two for the Dominiques. One chicken without a leg band counts as a marking.  The smallest number of leg bands I could order was 50. It may be a lifetime supply. I got the assorted colors. Having 50 of one color was no help at all. If we add to the flock later, it would behoove us to mark the old hens for that sad day when we might have to cull.

A lifetime supply of assorted 12/16" leg bands

The bands came last Thursday. They are just plastic rings that pull apart and go over the leg, like a key ring but easier to separate.

Hilda came out with me this morning to install the leg bands. She grabbed Clarissa first. I put an orange band on her leg. She was NOT happy to have her leg touched. Giada got a green band and Sara, blue. They were not so fussy about it. I saw Clarissa pecking at her band later. The bands were obviously large enough (maybe even too large—that remains to be seen) for the Dominques. The feathers on Clarissa’s legs are a complicating factor. We’ll watch for signs of discomfort/infection. Jane worries that the other chickens will be jealous of the chickie bling. We’ll have to keep an eye on that too.

Clarissa with her orange leg band. NOT happy.

Giada sports her green leg band, which you can see if you look closely at her left leg.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

More eggs

We reached the tipping point this weekend. We had more eggs than we knew what to do with. Our 10 hens laid 9 eggs on both Friday and Saturday. The Dominques and Light Brahma each laid one for 5 brown eggs. One of the Araucana didn’t lay. We don’t know who, and she’s not telling. Probably it was not the same one on both days in any case.  I gave a dozen eggs to a friend who came to visit on Saturday and delivered another dozen to  a different friend this morning. We only had 4 eggs today. Sunday is a day of rest. Just as well. We are so not ready for 9 eggs a day forever.

When I checked on the chickens yesterday, all three nesting boxes were full. I would have loved a picture, but I didn’t have my camera.  I did get a picture of Jennifer today. The girls are so cute when they put their head out of the nest box when I open the back door.

Jennifer looks out of the back of the nest box

 

Araucana eggs in the nest box

 

Last Sunday, we did a small fire. Terry had some old lumber and a couple of dead trees to get rid of. Pat and Nancy came out to help. Jane and her mom came for a little while. Jane brought cider and cider doughnuts, which were much appreciated.  The afternoon started out cold, but we shed layers as the fire got going. Certainly it was nothing compared to the fires of old when we were clearing dead trees out of the wetland. Still, it was a fun afternoon.

The start of the fire

It has to be cold if Pat puts her hood up

By this time, we had all taken off at least one layer.

The last thing we burned was the pallet that came with the post hole digger Terry bought for the tractor

Before we started the fire, Pat and Nancy helped us move the chicken fence and position a windbreak in front of the coop door. The girls didn’t know what to do at first. They seemed confused by their new space. By the time we came up from the burn, they had moved out to the border between the new and old territory.

The girls stand at the border between the old boundary and the new, edging cautiously to the green grass.

 As the week went by, they discovered the raised beds one by one. We wanted them to be able to dig in the raised bed. It’s good for the bed and good for the chickens. They have worked on the beds from east to west, beginning with the rose/petunia bed and then the sweet grass. Today they started in on the parsley. By spring, the beds should be weed-free, tilled, and fertilized, all without us doing a thing. 

Nigella scratches in the rose bed

Ina in the sweet grass.

Also, the girls like to sun themselves on the new windbreak. Chickens are so fun!

Happy chickens on the new windbreak