City girl, Country heart

Lexi's daily farm chores:

 Gathering eggs

 Hugging and kissing all the chickens (yes, every day). Because of this, she's also the best chicken catcher out of all of us!

Giving lots of love to the baby goats

And being her wonderful, giggling, happy self. :-)

What can I say? This girl loves her life. 

I'm thankful we got into urban farming last year! If we have to live in the big city for a while, we might as well make it awesome!

City yard, barn yard

Our city yard is both play yard and barn yard at the same time. This tends to startle all the neighbors that walk by the front and do hilarious double takes when they glance over and see chickens and ducks hanging out by the fence (much to our amusement - and theirs!). But walking by the back door and seeing a chicken up on the steps looking inside the house and pecking at the door is pretty normal to us by now. (And Lyla was having a dramatic moment, don't judge my pantless child).

What's not normal for us is dealing with life and death on a daily basis. Last week we lost six of our ducklings. We have theories of why six of them suddenly died, but no real explanation. We made some quick changes to their food and water and thankfully, the rest are doing well now, leaving us with a total of seventeen ducklings. Even though the plan is for them to end up on our dinner table anyway, it just doesn't feel quite the same when we are burying them as babies. It's just plain SAD.

Thankfully, there is always something to be excited about, even with the sadness of the ducklings passing. The first thing is that Lexi can't count past four, so after the first one died, she never knew about the other five. The second thing is that several of our chickens are now laying daily, giving us three eggs a day right now. Lexi is OBSESSED with checking the nest boxes all day long and lets out squeals and screams of delight whenever she retrieves one from the nest. 

Our chickens have also become much "friendlier" since they have reached maturity and we can catch and hold them fairly easily now. Lexi takes advantage of this daily, and makes sure to croon original songs and kiss them while burying her face in their soft feathers whenever possible. ;-)

Chicken before the Egg

Eggs! We finally have our own eggs!

Months of waiting paid off today when we stumbled upon a hidden nest of lovely brown chicken eggs in an incredibly hidden and hard to reach area of our yard. We were rescuing ducklings (again) from our neighbor's yard and found seven eggs in a pile back by where a bunch of ferns grow in between our house and our neighbor's fence. Eric has been suspecting for some time that they might try and lay there, but we have been neglecting to go on regular egg hunts.

After a tedious time of herding the rather brainless ducklings back into the coop (where they will remain locked up for the next few days while we come up with a better solution of keeping them from escaping from all the cracks in the fencing), I climbed back into the fern area and gathered all the eggs in the bottom of my shirt and brought them inside.

I did a float test to make sure all the eggs are still fresh and good to eat (Lyla did the lick test for me, as you can see), and then scoured the yard for other possible nests. I didn't find any, but will be on the look out. For now, I closed off the area to the back where they had laid the eggs and put some false eggs in the nest boxes inside the coop to help trick them into laying there instead. Luckily we had some Christmas ornaments in the attic that ended up looking pretty great with a light brown paint job. ;-)

It should be noted that when we rescued the ducklings the first time this morning I was unable to get them all back into the coop and had to leave the door open. Confident that I had closed off the area pretty well where they were escaping from, I proceeded to go about my day. Little did I know that I would have to herd them back into the yard FOUR MORE TIMES later in the day before I was finally able to get them all back into the coop without getting brutally attacked by the mother ducks. And good golly, are they vicious Moms or what?! There were ducklings EVERYWHERE. In the front yard, under the front porch, in the alley, in the neighbor's yard, behind the rain barrel, etc. Neighbors continued to ring my doorbell just to inform me of the antics of my ill behaved ducklings.

I finally, FINALLY got them all in the coop. Unfortunately, a chicken was in there as well, who I couldn't get OUT of the coop. Note that all this time I am also trying to parent two wild children who are climbing to scary heights on stacked lawn chairs and drinking dirty water out of the duck pool while Sami the dog is running around crazy trying to bite chickens. No joke. So the chicken in the coop won. I gave up, shut the door, and left them in the coop all afternoon while I did life and tried my best to keep us all alive. Apparently I failed a little since when I returned to check on them earlier this evening, we had a duckling fatality, most likely due to the chicken. Lexi happened to be with me when we discovered the duckling had, very noticeably, died. She has horrified, as was I, and we had a brief talk about life while I ushered her back into the house and made a teary call to Eric, who by the way, is out on business all week (of course).

In conclusion, I DID finally get the chicken out of there. I also took care of the duckling that had died and put up the partition in the coop, along with adequate provisions, which will keep the ducks safely in the coop for the next few days, and away from faulty fences and mean chickens.

To celebrate that I survived (and not without my sister's help with the kids this evening), I cooked up the most delicious free range scrambled eggs for dinner (after the kids were in bed of course), with sauteed garden tomatoes covered in fresh herbs on the side, a slice of fresh whole grain bread topped with cheddar made with raw milk, and a glass of cold, fizzy, home brewed Kombucha to fill out the meal.

To eggs, to chickens, to the survivors. 

To life. 

Duck...duck...duck..........Chicken!

I have had ducklings on my property for four days and still had not held one, petted one, or been anywhere within two feet of one. Thank goodness for long camera lenses, right? Our two mamas, Oreo and Cookies&Cream and extremely good at team parenting. They have decided to co-parent all the ducklings together, which is actually very common for Muscovy ducks. This is all well and good for the ducklings, but terrible for us when it comes to wanting to hold one. Instead of fighting off one Mama to borrow her baby for a bit, we have to fight off two. With the instincts of a Mama Bear. 

Now you know why I still hadn't held one.

Thankfully, my sisters came to visit. Convincing Eric to ward off the crazy Mamas turned out to be extremely easy with seven pairs of female puppy eyes and whiny voices added to the mix. Eric bravely crawled into the coop, held the ladies back with a big tree branch, snatched up the closest duckling in sight, and took off, closing the coop door behind him, with the Mamas bawlking, hissing and running to attack his heels. We are forever indebted.

And, we got our wish.

Lyla can now point and say "Duck!", adding one more word to her teeny tiny vocabulary of about, oh, four words. ;-)

 Finally, it was my turn! I tossed Eric the camera and cradled the fuzzy duckling in my hands. It was so warm and started to settle in, closing its eyes as I stroked its head. It felt like it was humming. Perhaps a ducklings version of a kitten's purr.

Mama moment. "My turn" holding the duckling actually means I'm just holding it for my kids to crowd around and pet. 

 This is what happens when an (almost) 16-month-old gets her hands free....

Thankfully the duckling was spared, no harm done.  

I can't get enough of this cuteness. It's a good thing we don't eat ducklings. 

Speaking of eating, I am no longer giving Lexi naming rights to the animals. When she began calling the ducklings, "Chips," "Salsa," "Peanut-butter," and "Coconut oil," I drew the line. We are NOT naming these ducklings. Unless of course, it's something appropriate, such as "Thanksgiving entree," or "Christmas a la duck."

Getting so big already at four days old!

And lest we not forget our other feathered friends...

Abby sporting "Chubby Buff", one of my favorite Buff Orpingtons, due to her mass amounts of fluffy feathers

...CHICKEN!

Farewell, Mr. Doodle

Meet Mr. Doodle, Crower extraordinaire. 

Last evening, when Eric got home from work, he went over to our neighbor's house - the one with the rooster. The rooster was tethered to the old swing set in the yard. He was super friendly, much easier to handle then one of our young hens (who put up quite a fuss when we attempt to catch them) and turned out to have several years under his belt...err...feathers (you can tell their age by their spurs). Apparently the guy who brought him home found him wandering around....somewhere...(we still aren't clear on this part of the story - perhaps lost in translation?) and hasn't had any real food for him this whole time (he probably wasn't starving with the grass, but was most likely used to a heavier grain based diet).

Eric talked with them for a while, offered to help find a new owner out in the country, and then brought them over to check out our birds and give them some food for their poor lost country soul of a rooster.

Today, Javier (the same boy who came over yesterday) returned with the food, saying that his dad had already found a home for Mr. Doodle somewhere out in Indiana. I asked if Mr. Doodle had already left, to which he replied yes.

[insert sigh of relief here]

Peace reigned. 

The birds chirp, the cicadas hum, planes soar overhead, flies buzz, cars drive by, the ducks peep (yes, they peep), chickens cluck and chirrup, and in the distance a rooster crows. 

...wait....

...and again. 

Maybe the hunt isn't quite over yet...

Also, in case you're wondering, Chicago folks are ga-ga about backyard chickens. They have all these special online forums for city chicken raisers and there is even a special once a year Windy City Coop Tour every September! Watch out - our coop just might be on the list this fall. 

The Case of the Crowing Rooster

Our chicks back in April, just a few days old on Easter Sunday

Backyard city chickens are fun. Free lawn fertilizer, speedy hands-off compost production, and endless entertainment. Quiet, goofy, and worth their weight in eggs (we hope).
 City roosters, on the other hand....not so much.

A few days ago, I was out in the yard with my girls taking care of the chickens and tending the garden. Lexi and Lyla were playing with the hose and giggling in the cool spray. That's when I heard it. The unmistakable crow of a young rooster.
Lexi heard it too.
"MOM!" she shouted. "Did you hear that? I think it was a ROOSTER!!!" (This girl does know her animal calls, city born and raised as she is).

The next day, we kept hearing it again. And again. And again.
This rooster went from crowing a few times a day to rapidly gaining in confidence and blasting us with a doodle-doo EVERY FIVE MINUTES.

I told Eric that night and we resolved to find it. Not that I mind the crowing so much (I mean, I did live in Mexico city for a few years and woke up every day at sunrise to our neighborhood macho rooster), but roosters in the city give backyard chickens a really bad rap. It's people who have roosters in the city who end up getting chickens banned, due to the noise and irresponsibility. You simply CAN'T raise roosters in the city. Period. Neighbors will complain and the whole thing will get shut down.

I've been on rooster hunt since the first crow. And today, the dude really is ruffling my feathers (forget about his). He broke the five minute interval rule and is now crowing as frequently as he can grab breath! AGH!

I'm laying down in my room trying to rest between his obnoxious belting (at my house, we ALL take naps at naptime - no exceptions), when the doorbell rings. This sets the dog barking, the rooster still crowing, and me- yelling at the dog to "BE QUIET!!! IF YOU WAKE UP THE KIDS I WILL.....!!!" -stumbling to the front door half asleep.

There is a young Latino boy standing there, probably eleven or twelve years old.
"Hi Ma'am, I was wondering, do you want to buy our rooster?"

I laugh aloud. "It's YOUR rooster that I keep hearing?"

"I think so, yeah." He looks sheepish, possibly embarrassed by his pet's countrified behavior.

"He just started crowing the other day, didn't he?"

"Yeeeaah." He sighs. "You name the price and he's yours."

I give the boy credit. He came to my door on his father's request (most likely as the English speaking spokesperson of the family), in an attempt to find a solution to get rid of the crowing bird, and further proving our suspicion that everyone in the neighborhood knows us as being the "Chicken House." I love it. Any time anyone walks by our house, they stop and gawk at the chickens, who have taken to hanging out all day under the hedge that lines the chain link fence in the front of the yard. Kids especially love to stop and get really close to the fence to have a chat with the feathered ladies, and if Eric is outside, he will almost always catch one and bring it out front for the kids to pet and see up close. If you are ever looking for creative ways to get to know the neighbors, get ten chickens and make them visible to the public eye. Being introverts, Eric and I are ever looking for someone else to make the first contact anyway. ;-)

Late May, and we have an almost hen

Back to Mr. Doodle.

I got the dad's cell phone number and address (turns out they live right across from the alley from us just two doors down) and promised to call after my husband and I talked about it. The boy emphasized again that all we had to do was name the price. These guys are desperate. I then promptly called Eric and told him the whole story. Case closed. Mystery rooster found. We were so adamant about finding that rooster (we were going to go hunting for him tonight), and in the end, the owners (no doubt annoyed and exasperated with all the vocal flaunting) ended up coming to us at the chicken house. Because surely WE would know what to do with him!

No, we will NOT be introducing the Mister to our lovely flock of ladies. The LAST thing we need around here is a boisterous flamboyant male messin' with the ten women and makin' chickies. We are already in over our heads with an addition of four Muscovy ducks and approximately TWENTY-SEVEN ducklings due to hatch in the next few days!

If we do buy him, we will do one of three things: 1) Eat very well this week, 2) Relocate him to a farm that is a little more welcoming of the vocal type - in other words, get this country boy out of the city, or 3) Come up with some other creative solution. It remains to be seen what his fate will be...

If you lived in the city and were offered a rooster, what would YOU do? 

Planning ahead

 We recently put in five new boxed beds in our garden area. The four tons of dirt we ordered was once again delivered and dumped into an enormous pile in the alley. We spent about an hour last Saturday morning working to haul it into the newly built beds.

 These are the three big beds, the same size as the original three behind them. Eric built two more beds back against the fence, on both sides of that roofed structure, what Eric calls the quail hutch (no quail yet though!). Our compost pile sits beneath it. The new back beds will grow more of our climbing plants, with the fence as perfect backing for trellis.

 One of our beautiful Buff orpingtons. Apparently there were some bugs the chickens were after in the new dirt. Our neighbors even came out to take pictures of them, saying, "It's not every day you see a sight like THIS in Chicago!" To which Eric dryly replied, "Well it is for you!" hahaha (Our neighbors do love us...promise. ;-)

 Faithful dog, Sambi Bambi, as Lexi is now calling her. She is usually great with both the chickens and the ducks, although every once in a while she does try to take a bite...

 My tomato plants have gone wild back there. I am anticipating a very large crop of cherry tomatoes in the next few weeks (YUM). The front beds will be planted with some fall crops in the next week or two, and then next spring we will plant all the boxes, expanding our garden by a considerable amount.

Our favorite chicken, Little Lulu. Almost mature enough to start laying! Nest boxes are built and the wait for our morning omelets continues.