Broody Hens & First Hatched Chick

A broody hen sitting in a shipping crate with Pretty Boy the old rooster by her side.

With the overabundance of roosters we have running around this farm, many of our hens appear to be oversexed. By that I mean they sport naked "saddles" on their backs from the frequent mountings by multiple males. Although the Dominicker hens are nearly fully feathered, I've noticed their rooster has stopped being vigilant about being their sole mate; the New Jersey x Rhode Island cross roosters are in on the act these days. Only the flock that revolves around the barn--with its young rooster--appears immune from the flurry of overzealous breeding.

A broody hen inside a dog crate in the yard.

As such, I imagine that the hens who have gone broody, mostly the old Jersey Black hens, find their stint atop the nest affords them a time for healing a bit, too. Not that most appear to be regaining any feathers in the worn-away patches, but the hen who has ensconced herself in the dog crate out front--she is showing some new feathering on her back. I would like to see such progress on the hens who have settled on clutches in the various shipping box planters still available to them.

Kimberly hen with her first chick of the year.

When I stepped into the end stall of the barn this afternoon, I heard Kimberly hen--the Buff Orpington--cooing in the corner feed tub she's taken over in the middle stall. Pursuing the sound, I found her fluffed wide to hide new young from my prying eyes. A "cheep, cheep" emitting from beneath her feathers confirmed my suspicions, so I hung around a bit and soon was able to glimpse our first chick of the season.

LaLa Goose sits atop her secluded nest.

With all the broody hens about, I periodically check each of the four nests I have discovered, we are hoping for a bumper crop of chicks this season. LaLa Goose is also hoping for her eggs to hatch; however, there will be no goslings in her future as this is her second spring without a gander by her side. She has done a nice job of feathering her nest over behind the riding lawnmower. Although I gathered the better part of a dozen goose eggs before she began sitting on her nest, I have chosen to respect her maternal instincts--even though those goose eggs make marvelous meals for the dogs.

Bluebirds?

A bluebird house sits beside our driveway.

A bluebird house sits atop a pole alongside our driveway, just across from the front stairs, just where it was when we moved into this house. Last year I watched wasps colonize the house. Prior to that, some rodent--presumably a squirrel--chewed around the entrance without managing to enlarge the hole enough to enter. We have never witnessed bluebirds set up house in the box until this year.

Hungry baby birds awaiting the return of parents with food.

As I was trimming branches overhanging the driveway today, I noticed the bluebird house. Normally quiet, today the raucous sounds of hungry baby birds wreathed the box with sound. Curious, I stepped closer and was rewarded with the sight of two gaping beaks awaiting their next feeding. Although no parent bird returned when I was nearby, the baby birds sound mighty healthy and I suspect the parents are quite good about keeping them fed.

I love the simple joys of spring.

Cruciferous Bouquet

Bouquet of cabbage bearing evidence that it's ready to eat.

This morning I harvested a number of the cabbage plants that came here from Edwards Feeds at the end of last season. I had stopped to buy feed on the morning they were disposing of all the unsold cool-season plants, and with visions of homemade sauerkraut driving my plant selection, came home with not only feed but also a large selection of mostly cabbage plants.

Through the winter months we harvested leaves here and there. Greens mostly, although from time to time we would bring in piles of cabbage leaves. Having fresh-picked greens available throughout the cold season was delightful, and I never could bring myself to thin out the overcrowded plants through the months when growth was slow enough that the crowding was of little import. Now though, the plants are developing quickly and if we are to have any full heads of cabbage later, this is the time to thin out the too-crowded plants.

Evidence of plant predators: caterpillar poop.

Around the edges of the bed, holey leaves attest to the fresh flavor of the plants and to the presence of a few cabbage worms or similar caterpillars. At the base of a very few leaves, piles of caterpillar poop present further evidence that some resident insects have been enjoying the plants.

The early part of this afternoon will be spent chopping up that lovely, cruciferous bouquet, pounding the cabbage in a mixture of our own raw-milk whey, caraway seeds and sea salt, and storing the lot into canning jars. The wait will be worth it, for this will produce our first batch of sauerkraut using home-grown cabbage.

Gotta run now. Cabbage waiting...

Tennessee State Flower

A 2011 addition, still wet from early rains.

How fortuitous that Tennessee's state flower, the iris, is also one of my favorites. Not only are iris beautiful, but also they are forgiving. No plant that requires coddling survives long in my care. Happily, iris thrive on the little attention I supply. When plants become over crowded, I notice and thin them out. Given half a chance, the plants survive the disruption and go on to flourish in their new spot. True, having the chickens continually kicking about at new transplants can be challenging for the plants, but those that make it--and most all do survive--are hardier for their trials.

Another 2011 addition.

This spring I thinned out some of the iris that were settled along the side of our driveway when we moved in. Those plants coming directly from the original plot were resettled along the driveway in chicken-kickin' territory. Those plants that had been thinned out in 2009 and were being thinned again, they got transplanted to the far side of the fence. When the gate is shut, those plants are safe. When we get lazy and leave it open, well, the chickens just love to turn the as-yet-unpestered straw.

Transplanted thinly three years ago, this bed is now congested.

As it is, most of the iris here are either dark purple or lavender. The latter have proliferated over the past few years. To jazz things up, I have added some new plants, but none that are ready to be divided again this soon.

Another 2011 addition.

In a year or two, we should have purples--light and dark--strewn for much of the length of the driveway. Then, in a few more years, I hope to intersperse those with some of the more recent additions, as they multiply and become ready to be divided. The colors of springtime will be here to greet us for many years to come. For this, I am most thankful.