Fiacré's spade: Phenology

Phenology [fi-nol-uh-jee] noun 1. The science dealing with the influence of climate on the recurrence of such annual phenomena of animal and plant life as budding and bird migrations. (Dictionary.com)

I’d always heard the word phenology in connection with flowers blooming, but when I looked it up I learned that it is anything that changes seasonally. And as the days grow shorter, the summer flowers shrivel up and the New England aster blooms. Winter’s coming.

New England Aster

We had a new autumn flower bloom this year as well.

A new yellow flower blooming with the New England aster

It came in a collection of native perennial plant seeds that I got at the Native Landscaping seminar in 2017. It took two years to flower. “What is that?” Terry asked.

“I think it’s a goldenrod,” I replied.

“It doesn’t look like goldenrod.”

“Oh, there’s hundreds of them.”

That was an exaggeration. Swink and Wilhelm list 24 in the Chicago Region. Still, there are a lot of them. Enough that I was filled with trepidation at the prospect of keying it out. Since it will bloom every year, I didn’t feel bad cutting one inflorescence off to take into the house for identification. Not only was it wicked hot yesterday, but also the mosquitoes have been insufferable since the Labor Day flood. I started with the picture book, Peterson’s Field Guide to Wildflowers. I found a match right off the bat—hard-leaved goldenrod, Solidago rigida. I verified it in Swink and Wilhelm, and it wasn’t even hard. In fact, it was the third step in the key. As is typical, the part I needed to really be sure was still outside. The upper leaves clasped the stem (I had those) but the lower leaves were larger and had long petioles. Sigh. I braved the heat and the bugs one more time. Yes, large leaves, long petioles. S & W gave the common name as “stiff goldenrod,” which I like better.

Stiff goldenrod with bumblebee and lots of little green beetles

Also as the days have gotten shorter, the hens have stopped laying. Two or three eggs a day. The time had come to move them to their winter quarters. That meant combining the flocks. The hens would have to go into Coop 1 where there was electricity for artificial light. I was afraid for the pullets. The Black Stars are mean girls. I took portraits of the pullets yesterday morning while they were still pretty. They are likely to be sporting bald spots soon.

Two Dominiques and Carmella

Amelia Noire and Carmella have grown up to look alike. I noticed recently, however, that Amelia has a black beard and green legs, while Carmella has yellow legs and not much of a beard at all.

Amelia Noire with green legs and black beard

Carmella with yellow feet and no beard

Bianca’s beard is white. The beard is the first thing that gets pecked away. Sad.

Bianca has brown breast feathers just like Carmella

A better view of Bianca and Amelia's beards

I took down the posts for the chick fence, repositioned the shade shelters for the winter sun, and hauled the kennel out from under the deck.

The chicken run ready for winter

One of the boards that hold down the cloth on the side of the kennel was covered with worms. I thought the pullets would be excited, but they didn’t have a clue. Perhaps they will learn better foraging behavior from the big girls.

Pullets completely ignoring several tasty worms on the board with the dirt on it

In past years, we’ve set Coop 2 next to Coop 1 so the chickens can see each other before being able to attack each other. Hilda thought that the pullets would not be bullied too much because Coop 1 was there turf. Hard to say whether or not the hens would remember that it used to be theirs. At dusk, Terry brought the gator with a kennel in the back to the apple orchard. I climbed in the coop to grab the hens, which I handed to Terry. Hilda opened and closed the door on the kennel. One hen got loose. She ran for shelter under the coop. We got the rest loaded and pretended we weren’t watching. Sure enough, she hopped into the coop. I waited until she was on the perch before I went in after her.

The pullets were together on the east side of the perch, where they stayed as we put the hens in one at a time. The hens tussled with each other for position on the perch, but soon all was quiet.

I was up at first light to let them out. Our plan was to let them get used to each other before starting the light on the timer. The biggest pecking problems happen when they are in the coop and can’t run away. As long as it’s dark, they will leave each other alone. When I got to the coop, the pullets were still on the east side and the hens on the west. They all ran out when I opened the door. The hens chased the pullets away from the scratch grain. One of the Black Stars got a beakful of feathers from one of the True Blue Whitings. The pullets went back in the coop.

The pullets went back to the roost after their first encounter with the hens outside

And the hens hung around outside

Shortly after that, the hens lost interest in the scratch grains, and the pullets came out to clean up what remained. There was a bit more posturing and pecking, but they settled pretty quickly into separate areas in the run. Madeline was the most aggressive of the pullets (She was not afraid of mice; she loved winter, cold, and ice. To the lion in the zoo, Madeline just said, “Poo, poo.”). She had no problem running toward the hens with her neck feathers standing up. She fell short of physical contact. By the time I went in the house, I was confident that the pullets would survive. We’ll see how it goes when the light goes on at 3:00 a.m.

I pulled out the cantaloupe vines and the zucchini and pattypan plants yesterday morning. I planned to get it done before it got hot. HA! That did not happen. Because the vines/plants were covered in powdery mildew, I wore a face mask. I was just getting over a cold; I didn’t need fungal spores kicking up my allergies. The mask added to the heat load. The combination of mosquito bites, plant spines, and mold made my skin itch so bad I had to stop at 11:30 and take a shower. Man! It’s not supposed to be like this in September.

Early in the summer, the deer ate the tops off all the beets. I put row cover over the beets, and they grew new leaves. After the Labor Day flood, we uncovered the beets again, thinking that it would help dry them out and prevent rotting. And the deer at the tops off again. Still, it was close to harvest. I didn’t bother to cover them again. We should have harvested them though, because sometime last week the deer came back and ate the beets. Sons of bitches! Hilda suggested that maybe they had just eaten the leaves down to the nubs, and the beets were still in the ground. I hoped she was right but had doubts. Beets are the shameless hussies of the garden, lifting their shoulders high out of the ground and leaving no doubt about what to expect below ground. So not like the demur potatoes. Potatoes keep their secrets.

Working on Hilda’s premise, I took a shovel and loosened the soil all along the row, 35 linear feet of beets, and here’s what the deer left us.