Day Two with The Broody One

For anyone hanging around to hear how we fared today, I must sadly report that we are still in the midst of chicken woes. This morning when Andrew headed out for work, Milk Toast (named by him for her being the wimpy one of the brood and because he liked the name) was sitting in an empty box...still pouting. He moved her from her box, she pecked and scratched all the way, and spent the morning sulking at the front door of the coop.

Alas, this afternoon a creepy cable guy needed in the backyard (We don't even have cable. Take your cables elsewhere!), so I had to give in and let the hen into safety lest el creepy cable guy let her out...or hungered for chicken leg. I could go on a long horrible rant about the guy's level of creepiness, but let's just say that after he called me "Sweetheart" and mentioned bowing down to worship me b/c my backyard looks like a farm (WHAT DID HE SAY?!), I kept the doors locked and a persuasive friend close by until he left. **shiver**

Once the backyard was again secured, I had the task of extracting Milk Toast. I do not favor being pecked. I guess you could say I'm a little chicken about it. (Oooh, bad pun! I know, but it's funny, isn't it?) I got smart and grabbed a thick t-shirt to act as gloves during the procedure. I opened the nesting box and there she was; rather miffed to be in the left nest b/c Andrew had stuffed the right side with a piece of cardboard. Milk Toast looked at me with a cock-eyed glare. I held my breath and very slowly tried to encourage her out of the nest. She pecked at the shirt and I quickly realize she was not going to budge. I was going to have to be aggressive about this. Even if it meant risking being pecked. Moving the shirt over her head, I gave a heave and plunked her into the coop. I ran around to open the doors before she could climb back into the nest, but instead saw the annoyed look in her eye as she tried to glue herself to the floor. **oh dear**

Using the shirt again, I threw it over her head and booted her out of the coop and into the open. Normally the hens are happy to go free range, but not this broody thing! She has always been such a sweet hen; very quiet, sensible and well mannered. Shes never made more than a peep, but upon being flung into the outdoors, she let me have it with her vocals! She started screeching and making the most horrible racket. I was stunned. Where was my sweet hen?

I did what I had to do. As if she were some awful criminal in prison being stunned with water from a fire hydrant, I gave her a good soaking with the garden hose. She quieted right now, but still huffed about the yard, insulted that I'd wet her pretty feathers and wounded her pride. What a drama queen!

This evening Andrew closed the coop door for the girls to spend their evening on the roost outside. They normally do this when the weather is nice, but from what we've read, a broody hen needs to be quarantined away from her nest or else her hormones won't go back down to normal. Crazy, huh? Tomorrow will be another juggling act to keep milk Toast away from "her" nest, but we'll manage. There you are with today's update from our little "farm". I never knew things could be so interesting...or quite so dramatic. :-p