Not all is quiet on the eggShell farmette. A young rooster found his voice two mornings ago. He is one loud mama. I knew he was going to crow because he began to flap his wings and put his beak up to the sky, a sure sign, I’ve found, that we’ve got a roo on our hands.
A friend of mine (who has some 60 hens in her suburban yard), says she can tell when a young chicken is a rooster because it looks askance at her, not directly at her, as do the pullets. Fortunately, she has a network of folks who are looking for roosters, so last night, I drove Mr. cock-a-doodle over to her house for a late night transfer.
My friend als sent me home with pounds and pounds of spent grain from a brewery (hens LOVE it) … and Goldilocks, a Buff Laced Polish hen who has been hopping into her dogs’ yard– rather silly behavior since her dogs are not exactly chicken friendly.
This late night exchange was tough on Goldilocks, as evidenced by her laying a “wind egg” en route.
A wind egg has no shell, is quite small and has no yolk in it. Some believe the name wind egg came from people believing that hens farted out this type of egg, thus, deriving its name from breaking wind.
Given that I no longer have a rooster, why, then, is it noisy at the farmette? Well, let us just say that the girls were not at all happy to have an interloper in their territory this morning– and boy, did they let us know! I isolated Goldilocks to make sure she stayed safe. But after about an hour, she weasled her way into the larger run. I guess her proclivity for taking risks continues here, too. That said, she is already part of the flock; they got their pecking order straightened out already.
Or perhaps they are in a holiday spirit because I decorated their hen home.
The girls even have a Rosemary tree, decorated with handmade ornaments created by our lovely Spanish exchange student Julia.