Those little...chicks!

I got back to the prairie restoration area last week, after many weeks of thinking about going. Terry’s been mowing it regularly. While I think we were only supposed to mow it once, the most important goal is to keep the invasive annuals from going to seed. I walked out on Wednesday to find that I now have half an acre of weeds. I have a sinking feeling that I have wasted a whole lot of money on prairie seeds. I expect this is why every other page in the Prairie Moon catalog reminds customers that it takes three years before the prairie plants bloom. They must get a lot of calls from people with giant weed beds in the first year.

The prairie restoration area

Which is, alas, mostly clover

Nadia is starting to get bits of white on her head feathers. Gracie is not, but she was not inclined to pose.

Nadia with white streaks in her head feathers next to a Buff Orpington hen

The Welsummer rooster looks like he is wearing brown pants. Even though all the chickens have feathers on their legs, the dark color somehow produces a more striking image.

Mr. Welsummer Fancy Pants

I made a video of the chickens running from the coop. If you watch closely, the all exit except for Gracie, who ducks behind the feeder. She can never make up her mind about going out. Many mornings she stands at the top of the ramp debating. The video also shows three chicks roosting on top of the sunshade, which is simply not wide enough for their feet. Still, height is status in the chicken world.

The chicks are getting big enough that Hilda got concerned about having 24 of them in Coop 2. We decided that we would separate the hens and move them to Coop 1 today. It never ceases to amaze me how, given that I have a Ph.D. in Biology, I can take action on thoughts that come into my head without ever stopping to question my assumptions. In this case, I took as a fact the assumption that the chicks were big enough to not get through the electric netting. Thus, when I suggested that we take down the chick fence, Hilda concurred and said, “Let’s do it before we let them out.”

And so sure we were of our assumption that we not only took down and rolled up the chick fence, we also took out all the poles. You know where this is going, don’t you?

We let the chicks out and began our Saturday changing of the wood chips. I climbed up into the coop to begin scooping out the dirty chips. From that vantage point, I looked over the yard and saw the chicks very happily dining on the cilantro outside the electric netting. (The netting was not plugged in at the time, but we know from last year that they are not deterred by the current in any case. The electric part is more to keep predators out.) They were walking through the netting as if it did not exist. What to do?

We let them free range until we had the coop cleaned. They didn’t wander far as the best foraging was mostly between the two fences. The first thought I had was to put the screen across the coop door so we could toss chicks in as we caught them and have them stay. HA! That’s a good one. We chased as many in as we could and put in the screen.

“How many did we get?” I asked Hilda.

“Four.”

“Okay. Only 20 to go.”

We managed to catch two more. It was impossible to corner them. Whenever we got close, they would scoot through the netting.

When Hilda left the run for something, she fussed with trying to get the netting closed at the entrance. Suddenly the absurdity of what she was doing occurred to her. “I have to get the fence closed so they don’t get in,” she said.

Which gave me an idea. We put the chick fence back up. We did a better job this time. We left both fences opened and started herding. Most of the chickens were inside the netting behind the coop in a particularly luxurious patch of volunteer dill. It still wasn’t easy. Initially, I was on the inside, and Hilda was on the outside. We should have left the chick fence open on both ends. The should-haves don’t count. Hilda herded a group of chicks all the way around perimeter between the two fences to the gate. One of them broke off and turned the other way. Hilda got most of them inside the chick fence and shut it. “Stay where you are!” I yelled and started herding the stray.

I got her to the gate, and Hilda was nowhere to be seen. “OPEN THE GATE! I told you to stay put!”

“I didn’t hear that,” she replied, but she came back to her post, and we got the chick in.

After that, Hilda stayed at the gate with the screen while I took the lid to a large storage bin to try to herd the rest out of the dill. And two hours after the whole fiasco began, they were all back in. We counted twice. Hilda took the coop; I took the run. First we counted the absolute number. She got 12, I got 13. Oops. I must have had 12. Then we counted by variety. I had 4 Welsummer, 1 Araucana, and 7 Buff Orpington. Hilda had 2 Welsummer, 2 Araucana, both Silver Polish, and 6 Buff Orpington.

We are totally NOT moving the hens today.

I heaved a sigh of relief and went in for a much deserved and much delayed cup of tea.