Friday on the Miller Farm Archives - Page 33 of 35

29 03, 2013

Substitute Chickens

By judythemorgan|2013-03-29T17:18:50-05:00March 29th, 2013|Friday on the Miller Farm, Miller Farm Friday|1 Comment

A guest blogger by Chicken Wrangler Sara

I spent one week in south Texas away from home, without my chickens.

After only a couple of days, I spent another week away from home.

This time heading north to Colorado to help my parents make a permanent move there. With snow still on the ground, I didn’t expect to see any chickens.

However, the wild turkeys paid a visit.

Turkeys aren’t the same as chickens, but they are fowl and, in a pinch, provided my chicken fix.

The mule deer looking for food also provided a delightful diversion. We threw bird seed to supplement the slim pickings on the frozen landscape. The turkeys didn’t seem to mind sharing.

But I think I’ve solved my problem of missing my chickens when I’m away from home.

At school this week, the younger classes celebrated Easter. Of course, no elementary school party is complete without decorated cupcakes. A top each cupcake was a different Easter trinket.

I chose one with a chicken ring.

Now I can have a chicken with me wherever I go. Fortunately, I don’t plan to go anywhere for a while.

Back to adventures on the Miller Farm next week.

22 03, 2013

Chickens, Chickens Everywhere!

By judythemorgan|2013-03-22T05:45:06-05:00March 22nd, 2013|Friday on the Miller Farm, Guest blogger, Miller Farm Friday|4 Comments

A Guest Blog by Chicken Wrangler Sara

I recently spent a week in South Texas with Go Mission leaving my beloved chickens in the capable hands of vet-in-training Rachel.

The first morning of the trip I was walking the fence line of the property where we were working and surprise–I ran across…chickens!

I guess my Chicken Wrangler reputation has spread further than I knew.

There were two pens, one with a hen and rooster and one with a hen and chicks.

I will say they were not as pretty as our chickens, but then I’m sure they never got the royal treatment we give our hens.

Each day after that, I made sure to check on the chickens – just like at home. The only thing was I could not feed them but I could talk to them.

Later in the week, I was walking through a neighborhood with a group of youth inviting children to our Bible Club. One man had chickens roaming around his yard.

I talked to him about them (in Spanish), but was unable to come up with a translation for “chicken wrangler.” I didn’t get pictures of these birds as they spent most of their time under the brush out of the sun.

Getting away from the day-to-day chores of life is refreshing, and I loved working with Habitat and Bible clubs.

But, I must say, I was very glad to be able to get my “chicken fix” while far from our birds. It kept me from missing my chickens so much.

15 03, 2013

Chicken Math

By judythemorgan|2013-03-15T06:34:16-05:00March 15th, 2013|Friday on the Miller Farm, Guest blogger, Miller Farm Friday|1 Comment

A Guest Blog by Chicken Wrangler Sara

Last week, Whitey – the hen who had the hurt leg and we nursed back to health – was once again walking funny.

We knew it couldn’t be a result of roosters jumping on her because the roosters were all at freezer camp. Chicken doctor Rachel diagnosed her as egg bound.

Egg bound means there was an egg that for some reason was stuck. The remedy was to put the hen in warm water for 30 minutes every two hours until the egg is laid.

We figured the best place for a warm water bath was an ice chest.

We let her soak in her “hot tub” for thirty minutes and then brought her inside to dry off.

When this didn’t seem to make much difference, Rachel discovered that Whitey did not have an egg, but a tumor, which would not come out regardless of how many times we let her soak.

I did wonder at one point as I watched her hang on to life, if there was a “chicken hospice” organization. I’m sure someone could start one, but not sure, if others would pay for their services.

The sad fact was our Whitney was destined to die. A very sad fact, but nonetheless a fact. We all shed a few tears when Whitey did die.

Rachel went to the feed store later that week and bought nine baby chicks.

Whitey was, indeed, a very special chicken if it took nine chicks to replace her.

We also have 24 eggs in the incubator due to hatch next week, but Rachel went to the feed store again and came home with two more chicks.

(She did ask me first. I figured what’s two more in our ever-growing flock.)

So now, we have potentially thirty-five new birds after losing one.

Rachel calls it Chicken Math.

I find it at least as confusing as regular math.

8 03, 2013

Greener Grass

By judythemorgan|2013-03-08T07:34:26-06:00March 8th, 2013|Friday Free Day, Friday on the Miller Farm, Guest blogger|6 Comments

A Guest Blog by Chicken Wrangler Sara

This morning, as I was filling the chicken waterer, I looked up and saw one of our black chickens in the neighbor’s yard.

I must confess I can’t blame her. The grass was definitely greener on the other side of the fence.

Unfortunately, her desire to be with her flock won over her desire for greener grass. She paced back and forth trying to figure out how to get back over the fence.

Since catching chickens is a frequent event at Miller Farm, my husband devised a “chicken getter” stick. It is a wire hanger with a hook at one end with which you can grab the chickens feet and lift them off the ground.

Chickens become quite calm when hanging upside down so you are then able to hold the chicken and take it wherever you need it to go.

If “chicken getting” were an Olympic event, our Rachel would be a gold medalist. The day before, she had grabbed three bantams from the yard to sell to another chicken lover.

I figured I could just reach over the fence with the “chicken grabber” and get the chicken back where she belonged. I wouldn’t have to walk all the way around and into the neighbor’s back yard.

I soon discovered I am not as adept at grabbing chickens as Rachel. I blame my inability to catch the hen on having to reach over the fence. After several attempts, I gave up and headed next door.

I may not be able to use a “chicken getter,” but my own two hands work quite well. I soon had an armful of chicken, which I promptly dumped back over the fence.

Everyone was where he or she belonged, and we all went on with our day.

1 03, 2013

A Chicken Wrangler’s Mortal Enemy

By judythemorgan|2013-03-01T06:44:24-06:00March 1st, 2013|Friday on the Miller Farm, Miller Farm Friday|2 Comments

Another Guest Blog by Chicken Wrangler Sara

Watching the chickens through my kitchen window has become a hobby of mine. Actually watching anything through my kitchen window has always been interesting.

When we lived in Mexico City, my kitchen window looked out on a busy street. I could spend hours just watching the traffic. Now I spend hours watching the chickens and the bees – who are as busy as the traffic some days.

Last week, as I was watching out the window, a shadow passed over the yard.

I thought perhaps a plane was landing in our backyard. However, within seconds, a red tail hawk came into view, a new threat from the sky.

A magnificent creature soaring through the sky. But it preys on chickens and a chicken wrangler and chicken eater are mortal enemies forever.

I turned my gaze to the chicken yard where half the chickens were under the trees on the left of the yard and the other half were out of view on the right.

They may have birdbrains, but our chickens know a threat when they see one.

This hawk sighting confirmed our suspicions about the recent disappearance of a bantam chick. Most of the chickens are too heavy to carry off, but not the bantams.

The hawk flew away, and the chickens on the left quickly ran across the yard to join the chickens on the right. Once again, they were banding together against a common enemy – this time a bird of a different feather.

Freedom, one of our first roosters, once fought off a hawk, but alas, Freedom was very loud and so had to go live in the country. Now we only have small roosters who are no match for a hawk so all the birds must run for cover.

When I went to gather eggs this afternoon, all the chickens were either in the coop or under the trees. I heard a squealing like that of car brakes, and I knew the hawk was near.

I counted the chickens. None of the smaller bantam hens were missing.

It makes me glad I’m not a chicken.

22 02, 2013

Chicken Slumber Party

By judythemorgan|2013-02-22T07:17:59-06:00February 22nd, 2013|Friday on the Miller Farm, Guest blogger, Judythe Morgan blog|1 Comment

A guest blog by Chicken Wrangler Sara

I have previously mentioned how the adolescent roosters resemble adolescent boys, i.e. chest bumping.

Now that the roosters are no longer around, I have noticed how much the hens resemble adolescent girls.

Without the imminent danger of the roosters forcing them to band together in self-defense, the hens are now picking on each other. The “pecking order” phenomenon is especially observable at bedtime when each hen has her spot on the roost.

However, I have seen some of the older hens chasing the younger ones around the chicken yard. This usually happens after I have thrown some kind of food.

I keep telling them “Be nice to each other. You are all you have.”

They aren’t listening – any more than adolescent girls listen.

Last night the hens were making all kinds of racket. Rachel, who had shut the coop door, was concerned that something was posing a threat.

The sounds were reminiscent of the possum ordeal so I walked out with the flashlight.

The minute the chickens spotted me, they got quiet.

It reminded me of a girls’ slumber party. All manner of noise comes from the room, but as soon as mom enters – silence.

With the hens, I could at least go back inside knowing they were safe. You never know what girls at a slumber party are going to do.

15 02, 2013

Advantages to Raising Chickens

By judythemorgan|2013-02-15T06:45:30-06:00February 15th, 2013|Friday on the Miller Farm, Guest blogger, Miller Farm Friday, Uncategorized|2 Comments

A guest blog from Chicken Wrangler Sara

There are advantages to raising chickens. They get food and water and sometimes grass, and they are happy.

Humans, on the other hand, need many things.

Last Wednesday proved the last. It’s my usual my day to clean the bathrooms and mop the kitchen floor, but that didn’t happen for three reasons.

Beekeeper Brian called at 8:30 to ask if I could bring him his ID, which he had left on the dresser. Not a problem – I had something to drop off near his school anyway.
Then Rachel texted and asked if I could meet her at the band hall at 10:50 with her jacket. OK, I could still get some things done at the house between taking the ID and taking the jacket.
Then Matthew texted – “Can you go by Thorn (music store) and pick up some drum sticks?” By this time, I was a little frustrated so I told him I would have to see.

After a bit of thougt, I decided taking care of family was more important than a clean bathroom.

As I left the house to make the deliveries, a woman was putting a flyer on my mailbox for a maid service. Rather ironic, it seemed to me considering I really wanted to be at home cleaning house myself.

Instead, I was off delivering things to my humans…

Beekeeper Brian his ID,
Rachel her jacket,
and drumsticks to Matt.

This morning as I fed the chickens I thought about how simple it was to take care of them.

Chickens don’t need IDs.
Chickens don’t need jackets.
Chickens don’t need drumsticks – they already have them.

However, not one of those chickens said “thanks, sweetheart” or ‘Mom, you’re the greatest.”

I realized while there are advantages to raising chickens, they do not outweigh the advantages of raising a family.

8 02, 2013

Puddle jumping, bee stings, and dachshunds

By judythemorgan|2013-02-08T07:15:29-06:00February 8th, 2013|Friday on the Miller Farm, Guest blogger, Miller Farm Friday, Uncategorized|6 Comments

A guest blog from Chicken Wrangler Sara

Bella, dachshund chicken watcher extraordinaire, has keep life interesting around the urban farm for the past two weeks.

First, a bee stung her on the foot. This would not have been a big problem except that she somehow acquired Beekeeper Brian’s allergy to bees. Rachel took her to the vet where they gave her Benadryl and made sure there were no other symptoms.

Bella slept off the effects of her bee sting encounter in her favorite chair.

Then a few days later, I was at lunch with Beekeeper Brian when Rachel called asking me to meet her at the vet ASAP. Bella was shaking all over and drooling – symptoms that looked like a seizure.

Since Marv, our big dog, has suffered from seizures most of his life, Rachel is well acquainted with doggie seizures. I left immediately, but a road closure cause somewhat of a delayed.

In my directionally challenged world, another (read different) way is always longer and in the wrong direction. I only know one way to get places, and since the road I knew to go down was blocked, I had to find another way. And, of course, I had to stop for every red light along the way.

I desperately wanted to get to the vet’s office in case something happened to Bella. While Beekeeper Brian and I were in Colorado last summer, Rachel had to take our chocolate lab to the vet for the last time. I didn’t want her to be in that position again with Bella.

When I finally rushed into the office, Rachel and Bella were sitting in the front room waiting for me to pay.

Bella was fine. The vet determined she swallowed a bee (I added another verse to the song – I know a dumb dachshund who swallowed a bee).

With the Benadryl, Bella slept soundly in her favorite chair.

She now has her own bottle of Benadryl in the kitchen cabinet.

This week she has managed to avoid the bees, thankfully. She did run under our bed instead of into her kennel one night. We could not coax her out until the next morning. Never did figure out what that was all what.

Then yesterday I walked the dogs after it had rained all morning, Bella managed to find every puddle to walk through. Her puddle jumping reminded me of my small children days – the puddles as well as the frantic trips to the doctor.

I’m afraid while the children outgrew their frantic trips to the doctor and puddle jumping, Bella will never outgrow this stage. Fortunately, she is very cute and so we tolerate her idiosyncrasies.

Don’t you agree?

25 01, 2013

Goose eggs, adolescent roosters, and bullied hens – Miller Farm Friday

By judythemorgan|2013-01-25T07:00:00-06:00January 25th, 2013|Friday on the Miller Farm, Miller Farm Friday, Uncategorized|3 Comments

Welcome our very special Friday Guest blogger, Chicken Wrangler Sara and another tale from the Miller Farm.

Adolescent roosters are some of the most horrid creatures on earth, which makes putting them on death row much less traumatic for me. However, their imminent demise does nothing for the poor hens they harass until they reach a size large enough to eat.

One poor hen, named Whitey, has been jumped on so many times I believe her right leg is broken. #2 Daughter Rachel and I found her trying to get through the fence and under the shed.

Enter Chicken Wrangler Sara wearing her chicken rescue cape.

Future nurse Rachel decided Whitney should spend time in the Miller Chicken Infirmary until her leg healed. She reinforced the sides of a wooden crate, gave Whitey a bath (yes, you read that correctly, she bathed a chicken), then put the clean hen in the crate in her bedroom.

Then Future Nurse Rachel went out of town leaving me in charge.

This is not the first fowl to be in the house. Remember, we had two rescued roosters who were much kinder than any roosters we have right now.

Eventually I moved Whitey to the garage where she spent the night.

In the morning, I set her out in the yard (while the dachshunds were inside) and cleaned her crate. Marv, our big, old lab mix, found this change in the routine very interesting.

Whitey ate some grass and hobbled around a bit. Before I left to volunteer at the food pantry, I returned her to her crate in the garage and secured the dachshunds inside the kitchen.

In the afternoon, Whitney spent more time outside in the yard although I’m suspicious that the roosters have spotted her. They lined the fence watching with great interest.

Fortunately, they cannot get over the fence so Whitey is safe.

I considered splinting her leg, but wasn’t sure how to go about it. I wasn’t keen on researching how to set chicken legs – cooking them maybe, but not setting them.

In fact, one of my piano students asked why we didn’t just eat Whitey. I explained that we don’t eat any of the chickens we have named.

Just can’t do it.

Not only do I have to keep an eye on Whitey, with Rachel gone, I must turn the goose eggs in the incubator three times a day. I forgot. When Beekeeper Brian got home from work, he turned them. Since they can’t tell time, he assured me they would be fine.

We’ve decided I may be Chicken Wrangler Extraordinaire, but I’m no Mother Goose.

Future Nurse Rachel and I have also started walking the four dogs. We each take two dachshunds and provide entertainment for anyone driving down the street along with exercise for the dogs and ourselves.

Since Rachel was not home this afternoon, I took all four dogs on my own. After fighting twisted leads and pulling dogs, I’ve decided I could probably drive a bobsled now.

Tomorrow Rachel returns. I will be so happy to have her assistance with dachshunds and goose eggs.

Sunday the roosters go to death row. Whitney will return to the hen yard and be safe.

By Monday, the Miller Chicken Infirmary will close and life will return to normal – whatever that is.

18 01, 2013

Fortunately – Unfortunately on the Miller Farm

By judythemorgan|2013-01-18T09:04:51-06:00January 18th, 2013|Friday on the Miller Farm, Miller Farm Friday|1 Comment

My father used to tell the story of a man flying an airplane.

Unfortunately, the engine went out.

Fortunately, there were two engines – unfortunately, the second engine went out.

Fortunately, the man had a parachute – unfortunately, it didn’t work.

Fortunately, there was a haystack in the field below – unfortunately, there was a needle in the haystack.

Fortunately, the man missed the needle – unfortunately, he missed the haystack.

All the rain we’ve had this week made me think of my own fortunately-unfortunately story.

Fortunately, the rain means that I don’t have to fill the chicken waterers – unfortunately, it means the chicken yard is a muddy mess.

Fortunately, the rain will bring more flowers for bees to make more honey – unfortunately, my feet get wet and cold.

Fortunately, the roof of my classroom does not leak – unfortunately, my classroom is a portable building, which means walking through the rain to the bathroom.

Fortunately the rain stopped today and it was a beautiful sunny day – unfortunately the rain is supposed to start again tomorrow.

And that brings me back to the beginning again–Fortunately the rain means I won’t have to fill chicken waterers…

Life on an urban farm is like that–a vicious cycle of fortunatelys and unfortunatelys.

CW Sara’s email had me wondering about fortunately-unfortunately cycles. So I Googled the term.

According to Wikipedia, Fortunately-Unfortunately is an actual word game first played at conventions of the National Puzzlers’ League. Click here to read more.

Writers play a similar game. We call it brainstorming. Instead of fortunately-unfortunately, we say What If?

Your turn: Have you ever played Fortunately-Unfortunately?