Chinese New Year

In our last episode, we had Bella in a kennel to give her vitamins twice a day for her crookneck/stargazing. Later that afternoon, I went out to give the girls their Sunday carrot peels and noticed that poor Gracie’s head had been pecked bloody. Nadia and Gracie are the only survivors from the previous flock, and they have not integrated well with the new girls. Their crazy head feathers are an attractive nuisance, inciting the peck response. Open wounds are not something you can ignore. Chickens are not bright. To be fair, they probably don’t have enough intellect to be mean. Still, their instincts drive them to peck in general and to peck at red/blood in particular. If we left Gracie in the run, it was more than a little possible that she could be pecked to death.

I set up the rabbit hutch in the greenhouse next to Bella’s kennel. Hilda went in the coop while I chased Gracie in and shut the door. She grabbed her, and we took her to the greenhouse. Upon closer inspection, I was relieved to see that much of the blood was coming from the feather shafts. Her skin looked pretty good. I rubbed her head with antibiotic ointment, and into the hutch she went. With the cat, that brought the number of animals in cages to three. If I had to deal with one more animal in a cage it seemed likely that I would lose my mind.

Poor little bald Gracie after a week in isolation

If you look carefully, you can see the shafts of the new feathers growing in. They are bluish and about 1/2" long.

We had ups and downs with Bella. Here is a video from yesterday morning. It begins with her having a good moment followed by a reversion to stargazing.

But lo and behold, this morning she looked good. Even after we took her out (and she is getting her feistiness back) for her pill, she didn’t relapse. Previously, the stress of being handled would set her off.

Bella back to normal after 8 days

Gracie’s feathers grew back with amazing rapidity. We put her back in the run yesterday, but put both her and Nadia in protective custody overnight. Hens will stop laying with less than 12 hours of light. Thus, we have a light in the coop that goes on at 3:00 in the morning. We don’t let them out until after sunrise at 7:00. My hypothesis is that Nadia and Gracie get pecked when the light is on in the coop but they cannot run away to the outside. Perhaps when the days are longer, we can leave them to roost with the rest of the flock.

Gracie and Nadia in protective custody

We celebrated the Chinese New Year early on Thursday. Every time we’ve gone to the Green Garden in Woodstock, we have promised ourselves that we would come back some day for the Peking duck. The menu said it was a whole duck, which seemed like a lot for two people to take on. Not surprisingly, Hilda was interested in trying it. She’s always up for something new. Dad was not, but didn’t mind coming along for cashew chicken.

Thinking that cooking a whole duck would take some time, Hilda called for reservations on Monday and asked if we needed to order the duck ahead. The wonderful thing about Green Garden is that it is a family business run by genuine Chinese immigrants. The downside is that communication is sometimes dicey. Hilda thought the woman said, “Order when you get here.”

I told Hilda to take heart. I have ordered Green Garden take-out several times, and they have never gotten it wrong, which suggests that they can hear English better than they speak it. Secretly, I hoped that they would not be defrosting Peking duck in the microwave when we arrived.

Indeed, when we were seated and working on our spring rolls, the waitress told us that the Peking duck had already been started. We would not have to wait 40 minutes like it said in the menu. Dad got his cashew chicken. It seemed like we needed to eat something besides duck, so we also got an order of house special fried rice (house special = pork, chicken, beef, and shrimp) and an order of house special lo mein, each enough to feed three to four people.

We wondered if the duck would arrive as in A Christmas Story with the head still attached. It did not. In fact, it was boned and sliced, with only the two little drumsticks on the platter for decoration. After our table was essentially filled with the other orders, the waitress appeared with a huge platter, which she set on one of those pipe-and-strap folding tables. The duck was on one plate garnished with julienned scallions to the server’s left. Another plate to the right held four large, thin pancakes. There were two empty plates, one between the plates with food and another off to the side. Above the empty plate was a small bowl of dark plum sauce with a small spoon. With a flourish, the waitress lifted a pancake with two enormous spoons and put it on the central empty plate. She spread a spoonful of plum sauce on the pancake with the small spoon. She picked up the two big spoons again and filled the pancake with duck and scallions. Then she folded the pancake expertly, still using the giant spoons, and set it on the second empty plate. When she had all four pancakes filled and rolled, she put them and the remains of the duck (more than half) on the table. It was a performance worthy of applause, but it didn’t seem appropriate.

The Peking duck, the rolled pancakes, the giant spoons

Here’s the thing. Duck is not my favorite. It has a stronger flavor than dark chicken meat, and I’m a white meat girl. This duck had delicious crispy skin, I’ll give it that. I expected the duck to be seasoned more than it was. It just tasted like duck. Apparently, it is the crispy skin that makes a duck a Peking duck. Well. I can check that off the list. Plus, we had enough leftovers that no one had to cook the next night. Terry is still working on the duck.

Skippy is getting quite comfortable with us, although he still will not sit on Terry’s lap. He hasn’t spent much time around men. He’s on my lap every chance he gets. I went to a lecture in the evening last week, and when I got home, Terry told me that Skip had been lounging in my chair with his left paw up on the arm. I didn’t get a picture of that, but I did get this one.

Make yourself at home, Skippy--my chair is no longer mine.

Right now, he is wedged between me and my laptop. It is not easy to type, but he is adorable. He’s snoring little kitty snores.