Farm Friday, September 22nd, 2022
My birthday week
So much chicken drama!
About ten days ago I brought a new chicken home from the city. The husband of one of the urban staff members found the chicken in his front yard and had been keeping her in a dog crate and feeding her bread. We brought her back and put her in the back room with Sweet Pea, our elder hen who sometimes falls over and can’t get up.
We named the new chicken Polly because she is a Polish breed chicken with a tuft of feathers coming out of her head instead of a comb. I also call her Mrs. Hat sometimes.
Polly did not want to be on isolation and urgently paced by the exit door, so after a week we let her out with the other chickens.
It turns out it was a bad day to let her out. Oops. It was my birthday and we all went into the city to eat delicious food and talk with family. So no one was around to make sure she made it back inside.
We came home after 10 pm and Polly was not in the coop! Panic ensues. We shine the car headlights on the chicken yard and walk all over looking and calling for her. It is debatable whether she knows her name yet, but whatever, we were worried. We never found her.
We did, however, notice that a different chicken was hunkered down in the tall grass north of the coop. Hmm. We have a broody mama! We left her alone and hoped that she did not get et by a fox or a raccoon.
The next day the broody hen was still there but no Polly. I had to text the family who found her. We were all sad.
Then, later in the afternoon, Polly shows up just like nothing has happened. Where did she come from? No matter. I texted the family saying false alarm, she is still alive.
The next night same thing. Polly disappeared, but we decided not to do a full search party. She just must be good at hiding.
In the morning we checked for Polly and for the broody hen. The hen had spread her wings wide on her spot and looked very angry. But then I saw a baby chick poke its head out from under the wing. Then another.
“BABY CHICKS!!” I yelled. And my two coworkers came running from the red barn. It took us about ten minutes to collect up the mama and twelve chicks in a cat carrier and bring her to Sweet Pea’s room. They are so cute!
Sweet Pea got pushed to live in the feed room, which we think she prefers anyway.
While we were dealing with the new chicks, the sheep had gotten out of their pen and were helping themselves to the raspberry plants by the red barn! Luckily they were sheepish about being out and they scurried back in with only a little encouragement. But then we discovered we were missing a llama!
Rheaa had gone out with the sheep and was nowhere to be seen. Yikes! Where did she go? I ran up to the road and there she was in the middle of the road, in danger of getting hit by a truck! And when she saw me she started walking in the other direction! Panic. I’m yelling for my coworkers, again.
They both come with grain in dishes and start shaking the food dishes while yelling “llama llama llama!” That did it. Rheaa turned around and sprinted back to them. Have you ever seen a llama sprint? Well. Now I have. Soon she was in the barn and all was back to normal. Shwew!
In writing news, I published a tribute piece to Yael Wolfe and it has gotten some people talking. I argue that Yael is right and there is something wrong with men, and I speculate about what is going on. There are a few argumentative men who have publicly dissed the essay, so I guess I get a small taste of what Yael and other women who write about men get all the time.
I also published a critique of Little House on the Prairie as part of my monthly ancestry series. More essays are in the works.
