Update: Loud is still firmly opposed to going outside. Also, he's a goofball, which I already knew. I took him outside to talk with the girls and he sprinted away, with this weird high-kick run, towards the bushes. I brought him back inside. \
I can't remember is I mentioned that I bought eight CCL eggs in the hopes of producing my own flock for Loud. Even Murray McMurray (IA) Hatchery can't guarantee the availability of day old CCL chicks, so I was going alternate. Nope, all eight eggs--and the peeps inside--died, sometime prior to day 14 but after day 8. It's kind of awful to candle an egg that only a couple of days before showed distinct signs of growth, and instead see a "blood ring", a sign of the peep's death.
Anyway, on the bright side, one of the girls was making a racket outside just a bit ago and I finally went out to see what was up, after Lily came back in--which she wouldn't do if there was an actual threat--and the fussing continued. Four eggs! Still warm!! One was on the patio table, another on a chair, and the other two in the coop. So that makes me happy.
I do think that there might be a reason Crested Cream Legbar chickens are a dying breed, despite being an old breed. They just don't do well with human intervention. Murray McMurray can tell you, to the day, when chicks will be available and the sex of the chicks anticipated to be available, on probably 90% of their day old chicks. Nope. Not CCL chicks.
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DO NOT CALL THE POLICE:
From This American Life, a story about a rookie cop’s first day:
The young officer and his partner are called to a house. The homeowner says something is moving in the attic.
Trying to be nice, the rookie volunteers to scope the situation out. He climbs the attic ladder, hefting his police issue flashlight, and pokes his head through the crawlspace, only to find a squirrel six inches from his face.
And the error pile-up begins.
Startled police officer drops flashlight — right on the homeowner’s nose.
Startled police officer then falls off ladder — onto partner.
Squirrel hops down ladder, over the downed officers, and finds refuge under the sofa.
The cops try to herd the squirrel out from under the sofa and into a cardboard box.
Squirrel makes a break for it — instead of the box, chooses the (lit) fireplace.
Squirrels, as it turns out, are highly flammable.
So are sofas. Squirrel runs out of fire and back under sofa.
Trying to put out the fire, the policemen turn over the sofa, and give the smoldering fire access to all the oxygen it needs to turn into a first-rate blaze.
Shared this post with my wife. She loves chickens and is still laughing as I write this. Thanks for the smile!
That is a beautiful bird. Is it Irish or Italian?
Love the missionary story.
Welp. Here we are, six to seven days away from the possible hatching of 0-4 CCL chicks, and...yup, Loud has managed to both up his "the fuck are you doing?" quotient and his asshole quotient.
I've been trying to move him outside all week, and this morning, he ran straight out the patio door...yay! That was immediately followed by no! LOUD! NO! because dumbass threatened breed full grown rooster ran directly across the patio and into the ladies' coop run.
Then, because he is exactly that smart, he couldn't figure out how to go up the ramp and into the coop, falling off twice before giving up. The ladies moved fast, trapping his idiot self in the run, under the coop, until I came out and shooed the ladies away, allowing Loud to go running off in his Forrest Gump-like high kick bizarre style. So that's the "the fuck are you doing" quotient.
He's now taken, since he still doesn't understand that he's a chicken, to either sitting by the patio doors and pecking at the glass while yelling "Loud's a good bird!" when he wants in. Which is all the damn time. I know, my fault, but also Google, which is full of information about why you shouldn't have a chicken as a pet, and has very little information on how to convince a chicken NOT to be a pet.
And this afternoon/evening, when a hard rain started up, Ruth (the Barnevelder hen) rounded up the rest of the ladies and they all sat on the patio furniture under cover. Ruth is easily around half of the other (Bielefelder) ladies' size, but she definitely runs the show. Pretty sure that when she is ready to go to bed, and standing in the coop door yelling, it's not nice--more like "Bitches! Bedtime!".
So she (Ruth) is yelling at Loud, but you can almost see the confusion and disappointment on her face. Rather than do whatever Ruth was wanting him to do, Loud runs to the low overhang from the living room windows. Then he sits there, making his little cooing sounds that he makes when he wants to be picked up, and periodically pecking at the glass until someone goes out and retrieves his sorry ass.
I can't take away his playpen, I've given up on a hasty move outside, so today I ordered another Insta-Brooder from Incubator Warehouse.
Keeping my fingers crossed, hoping for a couple of female chicks.
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This is still the best forum thread to ever grace the pages of Lush. Mostly lurking, but I'm loving all the rooster facts. Loud is quite the character. hehe.
Violet--the one chick to hatch out of however many I put in the incubator in the beginning--passed away in my hands Saturday morning. I'm so sorry.
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This is by far my favorite story, documentary if you will.
Thankyou Sweets for keeping us up to date.