Athos, Porthos, Aramis

What a nerve-wrecking afternoon! Why is it that when in a hurry to get home there is a major traffic jam? Needing to get home to handle a small crisis, unfortunately, for those involved as well as myself, there had been an accident at the Hub. For the most part I was able to circumvent the back-up on the boulevard by taking the bike route home. Word had it that one chicken was MIA so I was more than anxious to get home and search for her. I couldn’t help but worry if MIA would come to mean a dreaded casualty, a state that everyone has repeatedly warned us about. Dogs, coyotes, raccoons, hawks, weasels, Lochness, you name it, predators are lurking everywhere. Thinking about the accident though I wondered if a chicken had tried to cross the road. (Sorry, bad humor.)

As luck would have it, I made it home in about 30 minutes so there was still ample light to search for my search. Since chickens are known to come home to roost, I thought possibly I could encounter her sauntering down Brookside after her afternoon tryst. I circled Rivera on foot and even checked the creek. There was no sign of fowl play - meaning, no strewn feathers or blood stains in plain sight. Who knows what evidence hid behind fences? Back in the yard, the remaining five seemed out of sorts. Could they actually miss their cohort?

After thumbing through the mail, with inability to focus, I opened the front door and peered longingly outside. Dog walkers would be making their rounds and I would ask if they had seen my hen. Perhaps a strange question, but a valid one. In the distance I heard a female voice calling for her cat, Elvis, but he too was AWOL. Is this the beginning of a trend? What’s with these animals? While our cat poked in the front garden I heard voices parading down the street. My ears perked up when I heard the word “chicken” - no, I thought, merely the power of suggestion. And again I heard, “...chicken...” Could they be discussing dinner and the need to hurry home? After hearing what may have been a debate on the health of chickens, I wasted no time and approached three boys deep in conversation. I was prepared to admit I was eavesdropping in the wings and asked directly if they were talking about chickens. Did they find a chicken?!? YES!

These three muskateers, who couldn’t have been cuter, and by my guess about nine years old, had found a solo chicken this afternoon. They pointed to the exact spot of rescue where my trail of evidence had abruptly ended. My hen, it seemed, had last been scratching under a pine tree near the easement between our driveway and the neighbor‘s wooded front yard. When the boys saw a chicken, a strange sight in this surburban neighborhood, the two brothers and their friend decided immediately to scoop up this chicken and get her to safety. They first tried one house for boarding, but Dad no. 1, who I learned keeps three chickens, turned her away being concerned about disease. Second choice was the house of the two brothers a few long blocks beyond the alleyway of 50 or more stairs. When they explained they took the chicken to their house, the one with the slide, I was relieved beyond belief. They had placed her in safekeeping in a box after she escaped their hospitality of their playhouse. These guys are now my biggest heroes!

By the way, Dad no. 2 had been trailing behind the boys on their trek back to the rescue scene. The three were clearly on their second mission of the day. Dad no. 2 thanked me in advance for not having to keep a chicken in his bedroom tonight. (He was probably as relieved as I was.) With hen clutched safely in my arms, I raced home being accutely aware I might encounter a dog not on leash. At last, back in the yard: six chickens. The three muskateers saved the day! I can't thank them enough. Thank you Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, my heros!

Welcome Spring

Can't say how much these warm spring-like afternoons lift the spirits; scoop of ice cream guilt-free; people gathering outside on the square; neighbor washing his truck on a weekday. Some might even be tempted to break out in song like Julie Andrews as the hills in Marin are alive! This pleasant weather doubly makes the chickens happy with six eggs being proof positive. Another 4 oz'er, which sits high like on a barstool in the egg carton. The rest of the bunch weigh in 2-2+ ounces.

It's good day in the neighborhood.

Valentines

Ripped through a dozen eggs today for a batch of brioche, pasta dough, and ricotta and spinach filling, in which freshly ground nutmeg makes a difference! Aside from the 4 oz'er (gold went to the 4.75 oz'er) the girls have been laying as normal. Vivid orange yolks show good eats from the flax sprouts they happily mowed down to the pesticide-free mustard greens direct from Tara Firma Farms.

Unfriendly jays and crows gave the hens something to squawk about, ever so loudly, on Saturday. Hard to say which flock won the debate, but the degree of commotion led us to fear a predator was in the yard attacking one of the hens. Fortunately, the neighboring peeps did not call the authorities. I hear folks in Sacramento are not as tolerant. Thank you, open-minded Marinites.

The days are turning wonderfully longer and the almond tree is beginning to flower.

View a short (1 minute) silent visit to the yard.

I'm posting tonight from my iPhone. This is both a test and admission that the spot is desperately in need of more pics of the chicks. The Six seem especially happy with the greens from Saturday night's extravaganza. (Thanks again, Ralph.) Today, the first in some weeks, we had six eggs. Not one comes even close to the 4.75 oz'er we had last month, but they are all beauties. Of course, I'm bias.

Plans are underway for a remodel to the coop. We are looking at designs of Japanese, English and farmhouse sheds. A small footprint is the goal and with more ceiling height. Should break ground after the rains stop.

six eggs end the year

The last day of the year is upon us. No daily calendar pages or ticker tape fell from the windows in the financial district and the market closed down a percentage point in its last session. What a year it's been...in many respects. Twenty miles north of the financial hub in San Francisco the year ended on a positive note. On the Farm, the hens celebrate each new egg with song ... today, a chorus of six. (Actually, each earns the spotlight with a solo.) Today's performance was a first!

I marvel at the differences in the shapes, coloration, and of course, the almighty weight. Not one is alike. Sixpack offers a view of the variations. And, yes, that is an egg posing as a cork on the neck of the bordeaux bottle. The question of the day is do you suppose that small egg, the size of a robin's, is the end of a laying season for one hen or the start? This is the first day that six eggs have been laid, but that doesn't mean that all six weren't laying regularly, just not daily. (This sounds like the framework for one of those dreaded math word problems.)

Stand by for more news in 2010 as we answer the question of the day.

Break out the champagne!

Miscellaneous News

As we approach the last day of 2009, the days are slowly beginning to lengthen. The chickens continue to lay regularly (rumors have it that others have stopped for the season) and their geographical horizons have recently expanded. At the generosity of a neighbor, Six Chickens were offered access to a portion of his property. (Not sure why he so politely declines the offer for surplus eggs...) This new acreage equates to welcome green land underneath the apple trees where the chickens are now able to peck, scratch, and graze at will. The fence that divides our properties was quickly equipped with a hinged trap door for easy access. Since the birds have annihilated every blade of greenery and miraculously landscaped the agressive bamboo within the confines of their Yard, they love this new world. A big thank you to Steve! (Are you sure you don't want any eggs?)

On Another Note:

Santa brought an egg scale that has been in my family since 1935. Although it's missing a ring and a hook I hope to soon hunt replacements in the plethora of antique stores in our very own egg capital, Petaluma. All Six Chickens' eggs have weighed in well over large grade; some would even qualify as jumbo because they don't seat flush in reclycled egg cartons. I have learned that "The scale complies with the egg Grading Law of the State of California, Viz., Minimum weights of 1 7/12 oz. each (19 oz. per doz.), for medium and 1 5/6 oz. each (22 oz. per doz.) for large. Due to the fact that many eggs in each grade weigh more than the minimum requirements, the average will automatically be according to law." (One can imagine back in the day, chickens were smaller than they are today.)


Related and Fun reading:

http://www.newyorker.com/online/blogs/ask/2009/09/questions-for-orlean.html

In closing:

Here's wishing you and yours a very happy, healthy, and prosperous 2010.

Warm regards,
Meatball, PeeWee, CutiePie, Giant, Big Sister, Little Sister

P.S. It has been suggested that Giant be entered in the County Fair this summer. The mere thought of violating her currently happy, cage-free life is not under consideration.

The Last Layer?

Giant is struggling to lay. Poor thing. She created her own nest in soft new soil exposed just this morning after relocating the compost round. She sat quietly, resting her head in the dirt from time to time, as her sisters pecked and scratched around her oblivious to her predicament. Legs strained and feet curled underneath her body as she repositioned herself seemingly seeking comfort. Finally Giant rose and in no time there was no evidence left of her nest. (Hens work fast tilling the soil.) I raked the area carefully moving the fluffy, dark dirt bit by bit to see if an egg was buried below. No luck.

4 eggs today after a stretch of 5 per day. Pickled eggs anyone?