You may be wondering why, as it is Wednesday, that I am writing of Monday's adventures. Eh...that's a story we'll get to in a few moments, so bear with me. ;)

Monday I worked some on getting stuff out of Savannah's room and back into mine--I pulled all my yarn out of the dresser that isn't going back into my room and packed it into several Vitacost boxes. Mmmhhhm...I need to knit a little more. (I recently sold a pair of socks via my Etsy shop, so I do actually move the things from time to time!) Anyway, between boxing up the yarn and putting it on my new shelves and arranging my hat collection on the same said shelving, that is about all I got done in the morning. Very sad, I know--but we are such terrible slow-pokes in the mornings!

Well, I drafted back upstairs some time after lunch and piddled about a little more til I decided that I would turn my attentions to my "foot-locker" (actually a covered wooden box). I planned, ever since hauling it north from Florida that I was going to eventually strip off the old covering and recover it...or something. "Well," thought I, "now is as good a time as any. I'm more likely to get it done if I do it before I put it back into my room."

Following this line of reasoning, I pulled it's contents out (costumes and various reenacting and/or prop gear) and hauled the greatly lightened box to the garage where I began pulling staples and tiny nails. After I took the hinges off, that is.

I whipped out my pocket knife and started cutting off the vinyl material. Almost as soon as I began cutting, I started to get just a little excited....

Let me step back a moment and explain that I assumed that Grandmother had covered this box in the early to mid-sixties due to the apparent age of a particular relative who had scrawled her name in crayon on the back of it. It clearly had been the kids toybox.

Anyway, as the vinyl came off, I discovered that Grandmother had first covered the box with newspaper and then the brown material. It was the newspapers that got me excited.

I don't suppose it was even so much the newspaper at first as the date on it. She had used portions of the November 1, 1953 edition of the Miami-Herald to cover this box. Notably, the sports pages and some ads.

1953.

Grandmother and Granddaddy did not meet until 1958. So--this box had been covered not only a rough decade before the time I assumed it had, but even before my grandparents first laid eyes on each other! Things like that kind of give me a variety of jitters. I suppose Anne of Green Gables would define that as a "thrill". ;)

I took pictures of most of the newspaper, thinking that some of my friends might enjoy looking at the old ads in particular.

About this time, I decided to go take care of the chickens in my normal evening routine. I'll leave you there for the moment and finish the box story. It was determined after Daddy pulled the cardboard out of the bottom and uncovered--mold--that we should just pitch it. Well, bummer, but okay. I'm all for getting rid of mold infested "things".

Anyway, back to the chickens. Some of y'all already know where this is headed, but another telling hurts nothing. ;)

I had already fed the layers and collected the eggs and moved on out to feed the meat birds. I cleared out the first tractor and bent my knees and back into the heave-ho routine. I had perhaps another three feet to go when the strap's s-hook slipped off the PVC frame (I've never had this happen before). Naturally, as I was in mid-pull, I went sailing backwards into the clover. I landed primarily on my right leg/side and that didn't hurt much. BUT (you knew that was coming, didn't you?) somehow, with the left arm all rag-doll floppy, I whacked my left wrist into the ground. My palm was facing the ground, but also tilted up a bit...rather like a shallow 'v' if you were looking at my arm and hand from the side. Anyway, the wrist hit first and as I rolled into a sitting position, I knew. 

My wrist had gone immediately stiff. 

It didn't really hurt, but I knew before I got to my feet that I'd just broke a bone for the third time in five years. 

I'm actually still in the splint they put on me at Med-Express (faster and cheaper than the ER--probably nicer too :] ). I go to see an orthopedic doctor tomorrow morning before lunch. I admit that I am slightly disappointed that I couldn't view the x-rays on my computer--wrong file type. I like looking at the x-rays so that I can really see the break--but I was informed that it was just the radial bone--clear across. I guess I must have bashed it just right...

SO...anyway. I'm just grateful that I cracked the ol' left wrist rather than busting the right one again!!

Yee-aw!! We have chickens again!! I sure have missed the little boogers. Daddy and I drove off to another county and collected twenty-two old birds from a good friend (paid for them, by the way ;) ) and a cooler full of eggs. 

It started to rain about half way up  and rained while Daddy, John, and Dee rounded up birds in the barn. I stood in the back of the pick-up to seize the birds brought out and tuck them into the "over-sized lobster trap" in the bed. (The "lobster trap" is in reality a big square constructed out of dog and chicken wire.) I got a bit wet as I stepped between the shelter at the end of the truck to the cage and stuffed birds in. It quit raining about the time we left--only to start up again harder shortly after we pulled out of their driveway.

Upon reaching home, I transferred to the driver seat of the go-buggy (the old Ford is not a 4x4 and Daddy didn't want to risk getting it stuck) and collected a bucket of feed on my way up the 'hill'. Backing the buggy tail to tail with the truck, we shifted the cage from one vehicle to the other. (Daddy did most of that, really...I mainly just "held".) Then...we zipped over to the coop and drug the cage off the buggy. I popped in and dumped the feed and then stayed inside to help line up the opening gap with the door. Most of the chickens behaved with sense and just walked on out. There were a few stubborn ones that insisted on the end of a broom to herd them out. Goofy things. 

Due to the pouring rain, we didn't stick around to admire the girls but hurried back to the house. 

In other news...I pretty much have Katherine's bridesmaid dress done (just needs handwork) and I got mine roughly half done today. I should be able to finish it tomorrow, unless I'm crashed like I was yesterday.

Also, I got two packages of bees ordered--and they are supposed to arrive the same week that Savannah gets married! It's going to be a busy week... I am going to have to buy a queen before then because if I don't I'm going to loose my remaining hive. I think Daddy is planning on asking about a queen when he gets honey again. (Apparently they sell queens, too!)

Weelll--that's about life 'round here at the moment. Including the usual--"I'm hungry" which my family and friends are oh, so frequently aware of! ;)

I noticed daffodil leaves pricking out of the ground roughly two weeks ago. I have forgotten to look for their progress...

The Robins are back...along with the Great Tailed Grackles. (Soon it will be time to get my shotgun out and start shooting European Starlings as they go about their dirty ways.)

The maples have been pushing their buds for weeks now and consequently, are beginning to look like they have magenta flowers covering them from twig to bough. I haven't checked any of the other trees recently.

 Yesterday I worked out of doors...and may have gotten the slightest touch of a sunburn--of course it could just have been the wind. :) But what I did requires a small amount of backstory.

Back before the mink murdered all my poor chickens, we had a snow storm. The result of that snowy deluge was the breaking down of multiple paddock fences--which I left down. Disgracefully laid over. 

Well, yesterday, I strolled out and fixed that. I wired the paddock fences back upright. That took less time than the remainder of the job--re-hanging the bird-netting. I did that in two stages. One paddock I re-netted before lunch. The other four got re-attached after lunch. Anyway, the way I went about it was rather slow and tedious, but effective. Instead of using zipties this time (partly because I could not find them), I used a length of hay rope and cut it into sections. Each section then got sectioned out into multiples and therefore I was able to do the entire paddock area with a single hay rope. Not bad. ;) Now I just have to see how long some of those little tied sections last....

After I got done with that, I continued on to the next step of prepping the area for new birds--seeding cover crop into the paddocks. The ground was fairly wet, so after hand broadcasting, I was able to use a rake and scrape the seed into the ground somewhat. Hopefully, it will germinate before the birds really discover it. :)

I decided that cleaning out and readying the coop was not in my best interest for the day, so I crept into the house and soon crashed. I hope to get the coop cleaned today and likewise check my bees. The temperature is supposed to reach nearly 70* today!

I have sad news...this will probably be the last installment of the Chicken Chronicles for the rest of the year. I am no longer the happy owner of ANY living chickens.

The story goes like this:

I closed the birds in last night, nice and snug so I thought. Alack and alas! I went out this morning to feed my dozen feathered creatures only to find all but one of them laid about in various positions of rigor mortus. The living bird was clucking incessantly, distressed. She even let me pick her up without any fuss.

I quickly spotted the entry (and likely exit) of the evil, marauding mink . It was up high in the southwest corner. The chicken wire, which never was secured overly well in that position (from the outside it's at least four feet up) was pushed in. The overall consensus is that the nasty varmint was so irritated at being foiled in his plans to get at the birds since Wednesday that he took his revenge. (I don't know if we're the only ones, but we have gathered that mink are rather nasty creatures like that.) Only one bird had had any consumption done on it. Head and neck. That is all that these dirty mink eat--the head and neck down to the shoulders. At least coons eat drumsticks and thighs and more. It's not such a wanton "waste" of meat that way.

Daddy feels really bad about it because he had given brief thought to that upper wire and decided to do nothing. I hadn't really even given it any thought at all...but one must remember that it was cold and after 9 pm when we came in the other night. Besides, who would have thought that a mink would be so determined that he'd climb the side of the coop?? Not I. Especially when there are fat mice and voles around all over the place. 

Well, anyway, I sadly hauled my dead birds off and tossed them into the field. Neither one of us felt like butchering cold stiff birds. The pitiful clucking of the remaining hen was about to make me cry so I went in. Funny thing is, I wasn't mad. I got mad the last time the mink got into them, but I think I was almost in shock this time...

Anyway, I said I didn't have any birds left in the beginning, didn't I? Well, it's true.

I was busy washing the lunch dishes when I happened to look out of the window and see...a blame mink trying to pull my LAST bird through the fencing!!!!!!!!

She was already dead. I knew that. But I started spluttering (more or less) and my heart rate went right through the roof. I dried my hands in a flash and lunged for my revolver (I keep it rather handy frequently). I didn't take time to put on a jacket and barely took the time to shove my feet into my boots.

I barreled out the door, screaming, "DADDDEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!" (He was in the shop.) "He's there!!!"

Or something to that effect. I never let up my sprint until I got to the corner of the barn where I ripped my .22 out of it's holster, just in time to hand it to Daddy, who'd come running right behind me. He had his semi-auto out. We switched guns since his was a little excessive for the skinny rat which had lifted it's head to observe us calmly. I wanted Daddy to shoot it since he's a better shot than I am, besides which I was shaking so bad that I wasn't sure I would have been able to control my breathing well enough for a good shot placement. However, if Daddy hadn't come up when he had, that dirty animal would have found himself staring down a .22 barrel held by a very irate female...

As it is, at least one of Daddy's two shots hit him (I didn't exactly see it because I had stepped away...my .22 is pretty loud and I had no earplugs in). Daddy and I re-exchanged guns again and Daddy told me to go around to the back of the barn. The mink had gone inside (there are tunnels under the barn walls into the back portion of the barn. We had a rabbit die in there last year...but that's another story.)

Anyway to shorten this story, we discovered that the mink (or minks) have been living in the barn this whole time. We found the nest and burrowings...but no mink, dead or alive. However, we did smell the musk. That dirty rat was probably cowered underneath something within pistol range the whole time. Anyway, I hope that a stench arises back there very soon. Still, I may go "hunting" once a day for a while after this...as is, we placed one of the snap traps in what appears to be the main entrance and then I brazenly put the live trap directly in front of it. I would take a great deal of satisfaction in drilling a mink after this...

And that, my friends, is how I am now no longer head dominionist over a flock of fluff brained birds. I think I'll rather miss the silly things. Yup...there went the egg bill back up a notch or two again...

Today we got our first snow of the season. It has snowed pretty much non-stop since ten this morning. It was still snowing when I came in from locking the chickens into their coop for the night (a new habit which so far as resulted in no more dead birds). 

I spent probably thirty minutes out there knocking snow of the "breezeway" bird netting and trying to straighten up fences crushed under the weight of the snow. Netting was busted right and left and the movable cover for the paddocks was busted. Not just the netting off, but the 2 inch PVC pipe snapped off at the elbow joints. Booger. And I saw this massive hawk perched in the one of the Linden trees this afternoon, too.

Oh. man. I just had a thought. Since the breezeway is intact...I could just shut all the gates and keep the birds in the breezeway until we get the fences/covers fixed up. I'll try to remember that when I go to let the birds loose in the morning. Not that they'll be much inclined to be out in the snow anyway. I remember last year throwing a chicken out into the snow and it's reaction was hilarious as if foundered about absolute disgust at that white stuff. (I forget why I tossed the bird out there like that anyway, but it wasn't just to register it's reaction...) I don't want that hawk wiping out the REST of my birds.

Anyway, I kind of enjoyed my dusk excursion into the snow. I was able to stay pretty warm in my purple coveralls...I didn't even have my coat zipped. Hurrah for sweaters! (I love my red CHAPS sweater...it has cabling on it and a V-neck so's it doesn't choke me half to death. ;] )

We're going to try going to church tomorrow...I hope we can make it and don't have to stay home...

Ha! You thought we were done with these for the year didn't you?

Well...the mink (I think), has other ideas.

I went out this morning and found FIVE of the layers dead. All of them had their necks snapped right at the base of the skull...two of them were actually missing their heads. I was not a happy chicken farmer this morning, that is for sure. This leaves me with sixteen birds, including the rooster who isn't a brave one. He just makes noise from behind the girls...

Well, towards dusk, I got the live trap out of the barn and set it in one spot where I have had two to three dead birds previously (before this morning). Then, Daddy and I got the two small snap traps set. There is a third one probably floating around the barn someplace, but since the critter that was getting into the chicken feed carried it off, we have no idea where it is. I came in and then I recalled that I was supposed to check bait ideas for mink. 

Sounds like just about anything...so I raced out into the growing dark towards the spot where I had thrown the dead birds this morning. I whipped out my knife and hacked the quarters off two of the birds and then bounded across the back barnyard to the chicken area. I set the snap traps with slivers of thigh meat and then decorated the chains with feathers...I also smeared the quarters about on the ground around the traps in an feeble attempt to cover up other smells. I dumped the rest of the meat into the live trap. 

I'm rather hoping to find a critter in my trap(s) tomorrow morning and no dead chickens. If it's a mink I'll be adding another hide to my collection. (I haven't finished the previous mink yet.)

Anyway, I've done all I can and now leave the outcome to Providence. In other words, I'm going to sleep tonight and not worry about things. If I'm to get the varmint, he'll be there and if I'm not, well...he won't be.

My typing is a little awkward today...due to the bee sting on the inside of my left wrist (the poor bee got pinched under my watch band yesterday).

Today was Butchering Day #1. I really don't know how many Butchering Days there will be...or how soon the next one will be, but we (meaning Daddy and myself) emptied one coop over the course of the day. All twenty-six birds were rooster, except one. I forgot to weigh the one I popped in the oven for supper, but it was one of the lighter ones anyway. 

Neither Daddy nor I were moving with the greatest alacrity today, so it took most of the day to get the birds done. We pretty much butchered in batches of five seeing as we only have five of the killing 'cone' sacks. The vinegar bottles are too small, but the sacks are a little loose. At least one of the birds managed to trash his way out .

Daddy, as usual did the killing, scalding, and running the whiz-bang chicken plucker, while I caught the birds and dressed them. It's a good system and we get along at a sufficient rate. I managed to keep up and so didn't have a couple of plucked birds waiting on me as has occasionally happened in the past. 

Once we got done, Daddy did most of the clean up while I got the chicken into the oven and then started on the feeding routine. Daddy helped me move the coops (actually, to be more honest, I should say that I helped him) and before I started feeding I move twenty birds from the paddock (attached to the brooder coop) and out onto the grass. Did they ever squawk at me!! Anyway, once I got that done I fed all the chickens (I had skipped their third afternoon feeding today being up to my elbows in chicken innards) and watered the grass where the coops had been sitting. 

Now...about supper...that chicken is starting to smell pretty good if I do say so myself...

This tale actually begins several days ago...Saturday the 12th, I believe. On said morning, I was out and about doing my usual feeding routine. One coop fed and watered, second one fed and watered; third, ditto. Fourth, same routine. Fifth...

Wait a second. A dead chicken...no, make that two. Three? FOUR!!!

Later on that day, I would discover that a fifth had been wounded by the marauding night time chicken slayer. 

Sunday the 13th...I found another dead bird. This one half eaten through the chicken wire. Upset, but unable to do anything about it, I barged into the house to continue my preparations to go to church. 

The live trap had been set as of Saturday afternoon. There was no sign of any varmint activity from Sunday morning, but the trap sat, baited and waiting--just in case.

This morning, Wednesday, the 16th, I began my morning rounds. First coop. One dead bird, one wounded (broken leg and ripped up back), and one--well, I never did determine what was wrong with Mr. Roo Number-Who-Know-What.

I pulled all three birds out, knowing that the two live ones weren't going to go anywhere--one could barely stand, much less walk or run, and the other...well he was spending an inordinate amount of time lying on his back. Chickens do not rest on their backs. 

I went along and fed the rest of the chickens and about the time I was heading for Coop #5, I happened to glance at the trap (my coops are spread about a bit; I simply cannot see the trap from the first couple of coops) and it was closed...with something inside. 

That something turned out to be a gray possum. Nasty critter opened his mouth in a menacing sort of way when I walked up. I left him comfortably full from the bait and continued my chores. 
 
Once I had the next batch of mash on to soak, I collected a pan, a right glove, and my most faithful .22 S&W, and sharpened my pocket knife. It was, I might add, the best sharpening job that old knife has had in a while. I really was a bit surprised. I usually have trouble getting such a keen edge. 

I went out and seeing my birds were still where they were supposed to be, I strode up the hill and took a pot-shot at my caged creature. I call it a pot shot because it missed. But not because I can't hit a stationary  possum from three feet. The bullet hit the cage--which I didn't realize until I leaned a little closer to see why Booger wasn't in the process of dying. Oh.

Next shot, I slid the end of my barrel through the wire and pulled the trigger. I knew the animal was going to react when the lead hit him, but I still jumped. I felt rather stupid about that afterwards.

I left him to thrash while I collected up my birds. I then did the butchering and dressing job that needed doing. 

Clean up included removing the possum from the trap and re-setting it "just in case" and tossing possum and feather mess into the field. 

Thus closes the first edition of "The Chicken Chronicles". 

Except for one minor detail--this all took place before breakfast.................

I was laying on my stomach in bed, half asleep, when I heard my door being opened. I half rolled over, squinting, to see Savannah coming in. "Huh?" I more than likely grunted, wondering if there was something wrong with Grandpa.

The information she imparted was that my new chickens (the hatchery replaced them ALL!!) had arrived. They were in the back seat of the car at that moment. Apparently the Post Office had called at 5:30 and Daddy went and got them. As I crawled out of bed, I saw that it 6:30. I normally get up someplace between 7 and 7:30, so it wasn't drastically early, though I definitely wasn't ready to get up because I hadn't finished my "ease out" as I call the way I wake up.

I scrambled into my "chicken-clothes" and helped Daddy rig up the second brooder box--literally a card-board box. It required a little cutting and taping, but the end result is fine.

I didn't have enough feeders and water-trays, so Daddy and Mama went into town and got them and a couple more heat lamps after a bit. I had already put the chicks into the brooder coop though and split the pre-extant feeders, water trays, and lights between the two boxes.

Because there were so many (102 or 103 depending on if I actually messed up the count that once), I put some of the new ones, Red Rangers (rather than the Black Rangers) in with the Black ones. That was hilarious, because the black ones (a week old--I count from the day I got them rather than the day they were actually hatched--which would probably be Wednesday the 22nd) were all bunched up at one end and when I plopped that first Red in (yes, they are actually yellow at this stage of the game), they all went (figuratively), "Eeee!!! What is that!!"  The Reds just plowed in and made themselves quite at home. 

It is also Market Day (#1), so that flurry was going on this morning too. I made brownies, with a brownie mix, since the other bakers are out of town this weekend and we're doing stop-gap business. ;) Since I cannot eat them, I cannot say whether they turned out well or not. But they smelled good--but since when does chocolate NOT smell good???

Katherine whipped up some Rice Crispy squares (people do like their licky-chewy's you know) all the while saying, "I hate making these..." I don't really see why, but she doesn't enjoy the processes for some reason. :D  I should have said, "Here you make the brownies and let me make the rice crispies..." Oh well...

I managed to puncture the bottom of my heel with a screw this morning. It's inevitable, I must puncture myself at least once a year! It bled a bit, but quit bothering me rather shortly afterwards. 

Well, my coffee is gone and the dishes need washing and I need to get to work on more rompers. I'm trying to get a decent stack made up before Remembering WWII. (We are going as vendors again.) I have a few made, but I'm trying to specialize in ones that actually look authentic...this is my first one using modified modern patterns:

(I finally broke down at some point earlier this year and got a Pinterest account...the thing comes in really handy for this kind of fashion research.)

I have a minor problem which I have decided to go ahead and fix--one of the buttonholes is really quite tight. I'll have to rip it out (or part of it) and redo it. I did all the buttonholes by hand since my machined holes are always rotten and I like doing handwork.

Anyway, I was getting off of here...

Yes sirree, that'd be me. You see, my chicks didn't arrive until this morning. The hatchery took them to the post office Wednesday morning, as scheduled, but they didn't actually get shipped until yesterday morning!!

So, out of 100 chickens, I have 51 dead with 3 to 4 more that I do not expect to make it. That is an over half mortality rate--to be blamed on (allow me to indulge in my appreciation of British-ism for a moment) bloody incompetence on the part of the post office.

Now, I don't know if it was simple carelessness or stupidity, but anybody who works at a post office should be aware of the fact that boxes that peep need to be shipped ASAP because the creatures inside do not have either food or water and consequently will die within a relatively short period of time. A'right then. That's my rant.