Mud hens

 There are two true definitions of mud hens: 1) another name for the American coot and 2) a member of the Toledo minor league baseball team, which was named after the American coot. Even though I know it’s not proper, there are times when I think of our girls as mud hens, like yesterday, when the temperature crept up to just above freezing. The girls won’t voluntarily go in the snow, so their winter run is confined to the path I’ve shoveled from the door to the dog kennel that acts as a shade shelter.

The chickens stay to the small, snow-free part of the run during winter

In the photobelow, the hen’s feet are buried in mud. You man not be aware of the fun trivia fact that eggs come out of the chicken completely clean. I’m not sure how they manage to do it, since the egg emerges from the “vent”, which is the common opening for the intestine, kidneys, and reproductive system. Ours is not to question why. This is not to say that the eggs stay clean. I particularly don’t like muddy days because the eggs get kicked by muddy feet.

Toes completely buried in mud

One of the Wyandottes had a big adventure two nights ago. Due to the NFL playoffs, Terry came into the house early on Saturday afternoon to watch football. It was too early to close the coop on his way in, which he usually does. I had a fleeting thought about it, but failed to take action. Time passed; teams won and lost. We carried on according to our regular schedule. I went to bed to read for an hour at 8:30. Terry typically “stays up” watching TV until after the local weather at 10:20, but in reality, I often hear him snoring before I’ve read two pages. On the evening in question, he remembered the chickens with a start at about 11:00. He put his pants on and went out to close the coop. One Wyandotte refused to go in. Chickens don’t see well in the dark, as I have mentioned several times over the years. Normally, you can walk right over to them and pick them up. The Wyandotte would have none of it and flew off to a corner of the run. Terry shut the rest of the chickens in and fretted all night about the one out in the cold. Would she freeze without her coopmates to keep her warm? Would she be eaten by a coyote or raccoon?

In the morning, she seemed no worse for the wear. We hope she has learned her lesson.  We have learned our lesson, and remember to close the coop even on days when we are out of our normal routine.

My sourdough starter is taking longer to mature than the recipe says. It’s no wonder since our kitchen is colder than normal. On the third day it looked perfect and smelled pleasantly yeasty.

Sourdough starter looking good on Day 3

A few days after that, I was supposed to feed it twice a day. I wasn’t able to find the time, and soon it started to stink. One of the sourdough starting procedures that I’ve used said the stinky stage was normal and would go away with regular feeding, and it did work at that time. This week, however, after a few more feedings with all-purpose flour, the stink remained. I got out another one of my recipes for starting a starter and reviewed it. This one said to feed with half whole wheat and half regular flour. I tried that, thinking that the whole wheat would augment the population of yeast. It is smelling better. In a few more days, it should be ready to use. I hope.

Every cat I’ve known has had his or her quirks. Skippy is a wire-chewer, which means he spends much of his day in a kennel when we are not able to watch him and keep him from getting in trouble. Another quirk is that he is one of those cats who prefers to play in the water bowl and lick water from his paw to drinking the water directly. Messes ensue. The first year he stayed with us, I got him to drink from the water bowl by attaching the bowl higher on the cage. The year after that, he learned to prop his feet on the cage below the bowl. Last year, he learned how to put his feet in the bowl. Also last year, I learned how to put his cat bed in a boot tray to keep it from getting soaked by the resulting puddles.

Skippy with his feet in the elevated water bowl

Licking water from his paw

Skippy is particularly fond of playing in the water and then jumping on my lap with wet feet. Such a silly cat!