The rest of the story

Kate called about 1:30 on Wednesday to report that the chicken had been delivered. I could tell from her voice that the whole experience had been fun for her. Jackie didn’t make a peep the whole way until she walked into the school, when he crowed once. Hailey, his future owner, ran into the classroom saying, “Is he here?” She went right to the box and started peeling back the tape.

Kate’s sister, Kim, who shares Kate’s uneasiness about chickens, asked, “You’re not taking him out in here, are you?”

“Oh, Mrs. <Name>,” Hailey said, “it’s just a chicken!”

Hailey’s first assessment was, “He’s so little!” and then “He’s really tame.”

I felt good about the latter. We must have raised him right. I said to Kate, “She must have known he is a small breed if she’s got a Polish crested hen."

“I think she was comparing him to  her other roosters,” Kate replied. “And she didn’t know how old he was.”

I didn’t know either, off the top of my head. We figured it up later to be 7 months. Perhaps he still will get bigger.

Jackie was admired by all, “although,” said Kate, “some of them said he couldn’t be a chicken because his feathers are weird—quote.”

Kate sent me a picture of Hailey, looking very pleased, and Jackie, looking not so pleased. I know he never had a hug like that from us. We are all feeling good about how well this worked out for everyone.

Jackie and Hailey

I hope you all had a happy Thanksgiving!
p.s. This is my 100th post!

Farewell, Jackie

Jackie left for his new home this morning. Before I explain the details, I will relate the story of Jackie’s first encounter with snow. I missed it. I was at work. On the morning when the ground was covered with our first dusting of snow, Hilda opened the chicken door on the coop as usual in the morning. As was his custom, Jackie was among the first to race outside. He got four steps out and stopped dead, looking around as if to say, “What IS this stuff?” And he wouldn't move. Hilda went back in the run to encourage him. Instead of walking or running back to the coop, he hopped. Once in the coop, he didn't come out again. That snow melted before the day was out.

I never was able to get a video of him crowing. I stood by the run for quite some time on Sunday, but he just busied himself with the apple peels I’d thrown in. What I will remember about Jackie’s crow is that it was the same three notes that start the Christmas song, “It’s that time of year when the world falls in love.” Every time I heard him crow, it would stick that song in my head. It wouldn't have been a problem if I liked the song better.

Jackie last Sunday, not crowing

When Jackie showed signs of aggression, we started making inquiries to persons who had roosters. I asked Kate to ask a friend of hers if she would take them It turned out that her most recent batch of “straight run” chicks, now reaching maturity, included four roosters, and that was enough. Also, she had recently suffered losses from a mink in the coop. Since the mink had not yet been apprehended or excluded, she was reluctant to take charge of Jackie.

Hilda then asked the guy who does our butchering. He said he’d try him with the flock, but if he didn't work out, it was into the stew pot for Jackie. Meanwhile, Kate continued her search, asking her sister Kim if she had any middle school students who might want a Polish crested rooster. Kim teaches in a rural area of Wisconsin and has several students who are active in 4-H. One of her students was very excited about getting Jackie. She had a Polish crested hen that she wanted to breed! Hilda was hesitant at first about reneging on her promise to the butcher, but the more she thought about it, the more it seemed like the second offer was the perfect place for Jackie.

We arranged that Kate would stop by to pick up Jackie on her way to Oshkosh for Thanksgiving. She would be at our house at 10:30 in order to get to Kim’s school in plenty of time to make the exchange. My first thought was to put Jackie in Della’s cat carrier and cover it with a blanket to keep Jackie in the dark and thus more calm. Then I thought it might be better to put the carrier in a large plastic bin for extra darkness and to protect Kate’s car from chicken poop. Finally, I hit on the ultimate plan. I had an extra worm bin, which is nothing more than a plastic storage bin with holes drilled in the lid and around the top of the sides. I could put Jackie in there, tape the lid on, and just give the whole thing to his new owner.

I was apprehensive about catching Jackie. I thought I’d better leave the coop shut even though the ground was still covered with an inch of snow that fell two days ago, and Jackie had not been observed out of the coop since. I gave myself 30 minutes and recruited Terry to man the lid. Jackie was a perfect angel this morning. Of course. It can never be a complete relief to get rid of an animal. He was standing calmly on the perch, trying to keep his feet warm.  He didn't even fuss when I picked him up and put him in the bin. Terry put on the lid and helped me cut two lengths of Gorilla tape to secure the sides. Easy peasy.

Jackie stands on his right leg while warming his left foot. He seems to be getting bits of gold at the edges of his ruff.

Jackie's final portrait at Five Oaks

Kate arrived at 10:15. We put Jackie in the back of her car and waved goodbye as she drove away. I hope he likes his new girlfriend. He will certainly have to get used to snow.

Jackie in the blue bin to the right with the black tape. Kate's cat Gracie in in the blanket-covered carrier behind and to the left of Jackie.

And off he goes on a cold and wintry morning

The end of hay clean up

There are no pictures this week. The weather over the weekend was right nasty and not conducive to photography. Saturday began with a spitting rain. Shortly after I was done with the chicken chores and breakfast, Terry decided it was dry enough to take the tractor out. I hastily spread straw on the garlic that Hilda had planted on Friday while I was at work. We went back to the low spot to finish removing the hay that hadn’t burned. It seemed a little easier than before the burn. At least the longer clumps had burned through in spots to make the shorter and easier to heave into the bucket of the tractor. It was damp enough that the ash didn’t fly around too much. It was obvious that the 30% burn was much more accurate than the 80% estimate. Some places the hay was still thick, and we advanced maybe four feet with each load. Other places we were able to go 6 or 8 feet. We worked as fast as we could without killing ourselves, knowing that heavy weather was on the way. I’d left the house in a rush, forgetting my watch. The rain was due at 2:00. We were loading the last bit of hay when it hit in big drops of water driven by a brisk wind. Terry took the last load back to dump it while I carried the pitchforks back to the ag shed. I was surprised when I got back to the house that it was only 11:30. The rain was early. All in all, it only added up to 1/10^th of an inch.

Sunday was terrible. The high winds continued, and we got 2” of rain. The restoration site is still underwater. I am glad I didn’t spread the seeds. It would have been a total loss.

Jackie’s time with us is drawing to a close. He flew at me with his talons out in front Saturday morning. We can’t have that. We are working on finding him another home. I hope Giada does not pine for him.

Natural experiment

You may recall that all of our hay floated to the lowest corner of the property at the end of June. And there it lay in thick mats ever since. My idea was to use the event as a way of smothering the weeds so I could begin my prairie restoration. I took workshops at the Conservation District to get up to speed on the current thinking. I learned that it was best to seed in November, and that burning is helpful in removing invasive species. Prairie species have adapted to burning by having their crowns below ground. Invasive species have them above ground and are susceptible to damage by fire.  I learned that early restoration efforts included far too much grass seed. In the absence of grazing Indian grass and big bluestem pretty much take over all the forbes. It’s impressive to see those solid stands of tall grass. It’s just not very diverse.

November came. I had to get on the stick or the opportunity to use the hay disaster as a natural experiment would pass me by. I got out my long tape measure and estimated the area as 85’ x 240’. 20,400 square feet. Half an acre. I took a deep breath and went online to a popular supplier of native seed. I found a premium seed blend, which included a hundred species and a seeding rate of 166 seed/sq. ft. It include several different grasses at less than 3% each. This blend follows the preferred strategy of just putting out a whole lot of different seeds and letting the seeds decide if the site is appropriate. The price of it took my breath away. I knew it was going to be expensive. Native seed has to be harvested by hand. Still, it was over budget. I opted for ¼ acre of the premium mix and ¼ acre of the cheaper, less diverse sedge meadow mix. The area already has sedge growing in it, leading me to believe that it may have been sedge meadow back in the day.

The seeds arrived two days later. And I was worried that I had waited too long. Now all that remained was to get the site ready by burning the hay. That sounds trivial, doesn’t it, “all that remained.” Terry, bless his heart, finally got on board with the whole restoration concept and started clearing a fire break. I finished grading the Dreaded Lab Papers early Saturday morning and went out to help. Armed with pitchforks, we loaded the wet, heavy hay into the bucket of the tractor. Terry drove the load to the back of property to dump it on the reed canary grass at the west side of the field. Meanwhile, I raked the pile together and turned the edge up so it would dry and hopefully burn better.

Terry heads off with a load of hay

The end of the row of hay we were picking up

Terry takes the last load

We worked from 10:00 until 3:50 with a one hour break at lunch time. We took a half hour break and decided to torch it. Before we got started, I worried that it was too winding. Once Terry put the torch to it, I wished the wind was stronger. It was a slow burn. Still, the north side of it, where the hay was not as deep, went pretty well. It only took an hour or so for the fire to go over the whole area. Terry stayed on to poke at the smoldering piles and be sure it “wasn’t going nowhere,” as he is fond of saying. I was back in house at quarter to six to make supper.

Terry watches the fire (I'm calling this picture "art" even though it is the result of having my camera accidentally set for no flash.)

During the burn, we thought we were getting rid of maybe 80%. In the light of day this morning, we revised that to about 30%. Oh well. I finished up my kitchen chores and hauled my sore body out to work on turning, fluffing, and stacking the leftover hay. “Make a lot of little piles,” Terry said. His point was to not get the piles too large, but it turned out that “a lot” was the operative phrase. We stacked hay until noon. Terry then discovered that he didn’t have enough pressure in the propane tank to operate his torch. So he went to town while I raked, turned, and stacked.

After the burn

Making a lot of little piles

We burned until 1:30, then went inside to shower and get ready for guests at 2:00. Terry went back out after dinner. I stayed in to help entertain and also because it felt pretty good to sit down.

Terry will continue working on it this week. If all goes well, we can be ready to seed next weekend.

Meanwhile, the girls are done molting. Egg production is going up again. Ingrid looks presentable. Ina’s beard has grown back. 

Ingrid (left) in full plumage. Ina (right) shows off her new black beard. Sara hangs out in the front.