Another Snowy Morning

Some of you may notice that a recurring theme around here is the weather. My sister recently forwarded me an email from Coon Rock Farm, the CSA from which she orders produce in North Carolina. Here's what they had to say about it:

"I (like most farmers) have a fascination with the weather. It’s really the one thing that we have no control over on the farm and it is also the thing that probably has the most impact on whether we can produce a crop or not."

Well said. This is why, when I woke up to a snowy landscape this morning, a sight I usually enjoy, my heart filled with dread. How did the chickens fare through yet another unseasonably cold and wet night? How would they do once again moving them to now-not-just-wet, but snowy new pasture? Weather-wise, we wish several times a week we had waited to start this venture until May. Then again, who knows?! We have no control over it! The weather has been pretty wild this winter/spring, so what's to say we won't have a really bizarre summer, too?

This time, they all made it, and with an extra heat lamp (something we thought we had dispensed with after nearly a week of nice, warm, sunny weather), they're even surviving the wet grass. Whew!

Just A Fun Photo

Couldn't resist posting this one. Milan took this while inside the run the other day. Jack knows exactly what we're talking about when we say "chicken". Gee, wonder why! More photos of chickens and the farm (and Jack) in our Facebook albums.

Water, Water, Water!

Water is the basis of life, right? Making sure the chicks (which really, are now more like chickens as they're almost 5 weeks old) have 24/7 access to an ample and clean water supply is critical. We started off the day-old chicks with the classic, inverted-Mason-jar style waterers. Even the first few days, we changed the water 4 times a day, as they would kick shavings into it, poop in it, and backwash in it.

Around 2 weeks of age, Milan installed special, automatic cup-type waterers. Unfortunately, I didn't get any pictures of them, because they were only in the run a couple days: long enough for us to be 100% sure they were not working, or rather, the chickens didn't figure them out. The waterer had a little ball in it that we were told the chicks would peck at out of curiosity, and voila: water would automatically refill the little cup. That didn't happen. They would drink all the water out of the little cup without touching the ball, so the cups were never triggered to refill. Of course, we left the trusty Mason jars in place to make sure the chickens were still getting plenty of water.

Milan finally got a different automatic system going which is working great. It's a bowl-style waterer that hangs and automatically refills itself at a certain point.

You can see from the photos the working conditions for installing the waterers weren't the roomiest. Chickens are also pretty curious creatures. We have layers on the property here too, which are pretty skittish compared to these guys, who see us at least three times a day, usually more. They especially like Milan, as he's the guy with the food!

Here you can see the four-and-a-half week olds around the Mason jar waterer.









Even though Milan got in the run right after moving it to new pasture, it was pretty messy back there. When we move the run, the chickens go hog wild all over it for about the first half hour, pecking the clover and catching worms and bugs before settling into the sunshine near the front of the run. So, even though we had just moved it, Milan was still rolling around in chicken manure back there. Yuck! Talk about dirty work. And cramped! But Milan gets it done, usually with good humor.

Did you see the chicken on his leg? At one point, he was using rubber bands to hold something in place. One of the chickens discovered one that had fallen into the grass and thought it was a worm. The chicken made some sound that must have announced his discovery to the entire flock, because they basically converged right in Milan's face, squawking and bawking and flapping around trying to get the "worm". Milan managed to break up the party and successfully extricate the rubber band from the instigator.

It sure is a relief to not have to refill Mason jars 4 or more times a day. These little bowls are convenient and sanitary and they WORK!

If We Watched TV

We do not own a television, but if we did, there are a few things Milan and I would watch. Jamie Oliver's "Food Revolution" (airing on ABC) is one of them.

Go Jamie! Please help by signing the petition to "save cooking skills and improve school food".

Realities

This being our first farming venture, we definitely went into it romanticizing the lifestyle. In reality, the novelty wears off in a hurry. The chores are, well, chores, but the worst is losing chicks to causes we can only really guess at. We lost another one today, bringing the total number of losses to six.

We noticed this one when we moved the run, which we do about 2pm every day. I take up the rear while Milan hoists the front of the run with a handle. He pulls, and my job is to make sure the chicks move along as they should. I usually take a stick and wave it alongside the outside of the run to scatter them forward. I tell Milan what's going on, saying things like, "Slow down," "Okay, wait a minute", etc. This time, I hollered, "Stop!" At first, I thought I had missed seeing that one wasn't clearing out of the way and that we had dinged it. A second look, however, clearly indicated the bird hadn't moved for a while and wasn't in the mood to do so now. Milan then remembered having seen a bird under the hover at morning feeding (about 7am). He thought at the time, "Huh, that's one of the smaller ones," but didn't worry about it as the bird eyed him steadily and looked like any of the others do when they're resting.

By two o'clock, however, the bird was clearly weak and listless. Milan and I both felt a familiar sinking feeling. Having already lost 5, two that we force fed and spent the better part of the day trying to rehabilitate, we both dreaded finding that lifeless heap of feathers. We had to do all we could; we had to try to keep that little guy alive, even if we didn't think there was much hope.

I got out my coffee grinder and we powdered up some of the chicken feed. I made a slurry with warm water, and stole Jack's Motrin syringe. Milan dug through his hydroponic supplies (from his years in Palo Alto when the only "garden" he had was indoors or on the balcony!) and found some tubing. Off we went to force feed another little chick, hoping this time he would make it.

We both knew our jobs. Milan held the chick and gently pressed on the sides of his beak. I pried his beak open with my fingernail. Once open, I used a twig to hold it open while I got the tube in position. Thanks to the Rebecca and Meadow at Wildlife Images (our local wildlife rehabilitation and education center) for the instructions on how to force feed birds! The tube must go down the right side of the bird's throat (our left, if you're facing the bird). We fed about 2ml (or 2cc's) at a time, and did this at 3pm, 5pm and 7pm.

We also separated him from the other birds while the weather was good and the rest of the flock was scratching, pecking and relaxing in the sunshine. I can't really comment on what chickens are thinking, but by all I've observed, they certainly don't respect their sick siblings. They step on him, sit on him, jostle him, and make the possibility of convalescence pretty remote. Yet, chicks need each other, too. When we previously nursed a sick one here in the house, he perked up considerably when we brought in a couple friends.

With three successful feedings behind us, we optimistically marked the sick chick's head with a green marker: We hoped he would soon join his peers, where we wouldn't be able to recognize him without it. He couldn't stay separated at night; he had to go back under the hover. Milan placed him in a less-trafficked corner. We would be back again at 9pm for another feeding.

At 9 o'clock, Milan peered under the hover, saying, "Okay, which one of you has a green head?" I was ready, with syringe and warm gruel in hand.

"Oh, no," Milan said, and I knew: the chick had died.

People say, "It's just a chicken!" or tell us that up to 10% loss (over the course of time of raising them from chicks to slaughter) is "normal", but right at that moment, it doesn't feel like it's "normal", or "just a chicken". This was a life, a tiny, possibly-insignificant life, but it still had breath and blood and motion and senses. Now, it was a heap of flesh and feathers. It causes me to ask again, what is life, anyway? We believe that God gives it, but what IS it? Physiologically? Cosmologically? I don't know that I'll ever get a good answer.

Of course, my thoughts and perplexity may seem a little ironic in view of the fact that we're raising these birds specifically to be slaughtered. The difference in my own mind is that, when their time comes, it will be a humane, quick and purposeful death, not a random, unexplained, untimely, slow and probably painful demise.

No doubt, we're being initiated to the harsher realities of farming. Animals die, and sometimes you have no idea why. Did he not eat enough? Drink enough? Was there something else wrong with him that predisposed him to become weak? I felt when I first saw him at 2 o'clock that he wasn't going to make it. We've been told that by the time a bird looks sick, he's pretty far gone, because they disguise it until they just can't anymore (an instinct to keep predators away). Also, I have in my head that a "real" farmer has to make decisions based more on the bottom line than we do at this point. It certainly doesn't make economic sense to spend hours of our time trying to rehabilitate one chicken that's unlikely to make it anyway. But, in our situation, we can "afford" it, and so we do it, because of who we are and what we believe about life: it's precious; we have to try to hold onto it; once gone, it's never coming back.

The Ugly "Chickling" Phase

I have always heard of "The Ugly Duckling". It's a literary fairy tale by Danish poet and author Hans Christian Andersen. I'm vaguely familiar with the story, but the expression it coined has made its way into our vernacular. Most people have heard the term, even if they don't know where it originated.

The chickens are now three and-a-half weeks old, and now I know why they call it "the ugly duckling" (or "chickling", in this case) phase. Boy, are they ugly little guys (and gals)! They're half skin and half feathers, with some baby fluff still in there in spots. I can't wait for this stage to pass!

More Snow!

Chores are chores and have to be done no matter what the weather! These photos were taken April 5th. The chicks aren't quite 2 weeks old.

Chicks in the Sun

We had a few rays of sunshine last week and a few again today. What a relief for all of us -- the chickens and the humans, too!

These photographs were taken March 31st. The chicks are one week old. That big, orange contraption is our wood chipper. As Joel Salatin says, "If you say you're organic, show me your carbon piles." We've got a few around here...

March Madness: Snow And Chicks Don't Mix!

The crazy weather has made for crazy chick duties here at Sojourn Farms. Needless to say, we're learning a lot! We have a list of improvements planned for the next iteration of run and hover design. Our initial design catered to more mature birds in more friendly conditions. We weren't quite prepared to care for chicks in gale force winds, icy rain, hail and snow from all directions! We scrounged around the farm for ways to protect the chicks from the wind, which was the worst for them. The wind whipping in would suck all the heat out of the hover and cause it to swing on its hangers. You can see what we found -- tables, chairs, boxes, boards, an old door (left).

The weather also forced us to clean out the shavings and re-bed the chicks' "nest" under the hover. Our design didn't "plan" for this -- we intended to move the whole run, hover included, to a new patch of grass with a new nest all set up in the right place. But, with the grass covered with snow, that wasn't an option. So, in Milan went. Talk about a nasty job, huh?

Outdoor Chicks

We are so glad for the last few days of sunny weather! What a break for us and for the chicks. The forecast shows PM showers again tonight, with rain tomorrow and the next day, and the next day, and the next day...

From that first morning when it was pouring at 4am (read about it in "Got Chicks!"), the weather has really proven our biggest challenge and hassle factor. Our original plan was to have the chicks on pasture from the moment they arrived home, but putting day-old chicks on wet grass is sure to result in a high mortality rate. Most chicks are kept in a brooder for at least three weeks. The brooder is usually set up indoors -- somewhere out of the wind, rain and cold. It also needs to be secure from predators: from coyotes and raccoons to weasels and even large mice, which have been known to kill small chicks.

On Sunday, March 28th, the chicks were four days old. We got a little break in the weather and decided to go for it. Here, you see Milan and his dad bringing the chicks out and placing them in the run. The white structure inside with the shiny-underside door is the "hover". It's essentially an outdoor brooder. There are heaters and a heat lamp affixed to its ceiling. The whole hover is attached to wires and suspended from the ceiling of the run. It can be raised and lowered for cleaning, and also to accommodate the chicks' height. We placed an old sheet of 4'x8' plywood underneath the hover and bedded it down with dry shavings. We put down all the shavings and turned on the heaters before leaving for church so that it would dry everything out and warm it up before putting the chicks inside.

So, if other operations leave their chicks in the brooder for 3 weeks or more, why were we so eager to get ours out, especially considering the weather?

First, our research found that to successfully pasture-raise chickens, especially this breed of chicken (Cornish X, or "Cornish Cross", the classic, white chicken raised for meat), you need to get them on pasture as soon as possible. Getting the chicks out on grass early helps them become comfortable on pasture and learn how to effectively scratch and peck. If they spend three weeks in a brooder, that's a lot of time their instincts for pecking and scratching aren't kicking in. It's also three weeks they don't get the nutritional benefits of legumes, grass, bugs and worms, and the physical benefits of room to run, exercise, and good, clean, Oregon air and sunshine. Well, maybe not the sunshine just yet...

Second, they were clearly a little crowded in the horse trough we set up for their initial homecoming. We were adding pine shaving bedding twice a day to deal with the smell and keep the chicks warm, dry and clean, but it was clear that unless we set up another trough situation, they were going to outgrow it really fast.

So, at four tender days of age, out they went. Milan's dad came and helped move them while Jack and I manned the camera. It sure is fun having a wide-eyed, interested-in-everything little tyke around. He daily reminds us to marvel at things we probably wouldn't notice or spend much time thinking about.

You can see from these photos that it was still pretty wet outside. We got the chicks out between rain showers. We knew they would be warm under the hover, but the weather the week following their outdoor placement definitely put the whole run and hover design to the test.

Got Chicks!

What would be your first thought if your phone were to ring at 3:52am? My initial thought was, "Oh, no. What's wrong?" I didn't actually get to the phone in time to find out, so at 3:53am on Thursday, March 25th, I dialed our voice mail box, wondering if whoever it was had left a message. Of all the thoughts going through my head, it didn't once occur to me that it would be the Medford postal distribution center, letting us know our chicks had arrived in Medford. Did we want to come get them or should they go out to Cave Junction on the 6:45am truck? We opted for the latter, mostly because even if we had run out of the house still in our PJ's, we couldn't have had them home much sooner than they would arrive at the local post office (8am).

It was 3:55 in the morning, and we were in a bit of a pickle. After a crazy and anticlimactic Wednesday, which we spent both preparing and waiting for the chicks' arrival, we still weren't quite ready, because we had forgotten about one, extremely major consideration: the weather!

Welcome to the world of farming, right? Milan is used to working with software and machines, which are very, very predictable, once you understand their inner workings. If you take the time to carefully research, plan, design and redesign, a first-shot-out-of-the box attempt is usually successful. There's little you can't be prepared for or plan in advance when working with machines. But, the elements? Animals? We have no control over the former, and less than we think over the latter! So when it was absolutely pouring buckets at 4am, we knew we needed to scrap the original plan and come up with a bad-weather solution for these little, barely-24-hours-old chicks.

We decided to start the chicks indoors in a brooder setting, much like what you see at Grange Coop during chick-buying season. We trooped outside and started with the only empty horse trough on the place. Luckily, it was sitting upside down, so the inside was dry, and the outside nicely rain washed. We brought it inside the sun room, cleaned out the cobwebs, and bedded it down with dry pine shavings. We rigged in two heat lamps to start warming things up. We brought in bricks out of the garden and put them under the wood stove to dry out before placing them under the water jars (the extra lift off the shavings keeps the water cleaner). We filled the feed troughs with organic chick starter and a sprinkle of cherry stone grit, and the water jars with a warm, vitamin and electrolyte water solution.

Like clockwork, our phone rang again at 8:05am. "Your chicks are here!" announced the postmaster, their wild peeping unmistakeably audible in the background. Milan dashed out the door to go pick them up, while I hurriedly fed Jack.

At 8:20, Milan was back with very loud box! In the upper right corner of the box, you can see a stamp: "Hatched MARCH 24 2010 8:00am". I blogged a little about shipping live animals in the last few paragraphs of a previous post, "The Final Hours Before The Chicks Arrival". Milan and I were both a little nervous to open the box; we were steeling ourselves for the possibility of finding a dead chick or two. Off came the lid. Wow, what a little mass of fluffy yellow peepers! And, glory be! All 100 seemed in fine shape.

One by one, we plucked them out of their shipping box, dunked their beaks in the vitamin and electrolyte water, making sure they each got a couple swallows, and set them free in their new environment. Here, you see Milan doing the pluck-dunk shuffle (Jack had been told a stern, "No!", when it came to touching the chicks, so meanwhile he busied himself with the fly swatter. We made sure he didn't swat any chicks!).

So, we have definitely "Got chicks!" I would say we are now officially embarked on our chicken-raising adventure.