The Borne Chicken Saga: The Final Episode

After the tragic death of our beloved hen Red, our flock had dwindled down to two birds, so we decided it was time to replenish. Andrew found a source through Craig's List and after work one day, returned home with three 7 week old chicks. I did not participate in the chicken hunting process as I was queasy with some morning sickness, but heartily approved of his pick: 1 red sex link, and 2 buff orphingtons. The chicken man had told Andrew about an old trick a grandma taught him, determining the sex of a chicken (since you can only truly tell on the day they're hatched, or once they begin to crow). The sage advice was to grab a chicken by it's legs and hold it upside down. If the chick fought back and flapped it's wings, it was a roo. If it laid back and submitted to the reverse gravity position, then it was a hen. Andrew and the chicken farmer went through several birds before they found "hens" that would submit, so those were the ones he brought home. We welcomed the little birdies into the family and affectionately began referring to them as "the babies".

Here is Olivia with the babies, stick in hand, informing them "Chickens, I'm your Mommy!"

Once the young ones got a little bigger and were requiring a move to the coop, I was determined to properly integrate them into the rest of the flock. However, true to the rules of the pecking order, and despite all of my trouble, there was still a good bit of nipping and feather picking from the older hens. The babies soon learned to avoid the big chickens when I'd let them all free range in the backyard. They started getting along. And all seemed well.

As they grew even larger, I was thrilled at the prospect of having a greater supply of fresh eggs. Milk Toast and D.P.R. did a great job of laying, but simply not enough to suit my family's needs. A few months came and went, pushing us up to the month when the new girls should start laying. I was excitedly checking the nesting box for any new eggs, but never saw anything new. With all the busyness and details involved in relocating, neither Andrew or I gave a great deal of time or attention to the hens since our thoughts were demanded elsewhere. That is until two weeks ago...

Exhibit A:

It was a hot afternoon when I let the chickens into the backyard to graze and find a cool place to hide out. No sooner had I returned inside than I heard it...the sound I had been dreading...an extremely awkward crow of a rooster. Despite it being the middle of the afternoon, he kept it up, exercising his vocals for the first time, attempting to perfect his crow. I ran outside in mild horror to witness which bird was crowing. With a small sigh of relief, I saw that it was "Geoff" (can you guess who wanted to give THAT name to a hen?!). He was living up to his name. Not wanting to disturb neighbors, or violate city restrictions on roosters, Geoff's mug was quickly posted back up on Craig's List. The ad read:

"Handsome young Red Sex-link Rooster needs a new home. Downsizing the flock to just hens.
Hatched Jan. 2013, non-aggressive, very popular with the ladies. Goes by "Geoff". $10 cash"

A few days after being listed, Geoff was purchased by a local farmer and relocated to crow for a larger group of hens. Andrew and I breathed a sigh of relief the afternoon Geoff was hauled off. We could all live at peace with a still fine flock of four. That is until...

Exhibit B:

It wasn't but a couple of hours after Geoff's departure that Andrew noticed something about the other hens. He had just finished mowing and let them out to graze when...another chicken started crowing! I came out to witness the spectacle. For a while, Andrew and I sat speechless on the backyard bench. After several minutes of observing, we concluded that not one, but both of the buffs were also roosters. I felt like a complete idiot for not noticing their budding manly qualities sooner (spur buds, tail feathers starting to curl, extra large waddles, longish neck feathers). I also felt defeated at what seemed an utter waste of time raising roosters when I was so hoping for more fresh eggs!

It took a day before I posted a new ad listing the newly discovered roosters. They started out at $10 a piece, but as their simultaneous crowing at all hours of the day (and beginning to ravage our hens!!!) increased, the price on their heads dropped to "FREE". It wasn't long after that that I received a text asking about the roosters and arranged a pick up. The lady who wanted them drove over an hour to come get the boys. She had a husky sounding tone so I was hoping she'd be good at chicken catching, since my belly is really starting to slow me down. When she arrived, I was surprised to see a rather large woman in her 50's, accompanied by an even older lady pushing 80. I pointed to my belly and semi-jokingly said that I hoped she was able to catch a chicken. She responded, stone faced, informing me that she was recovering from a back injury and wouldn't be any help. Taking one more look at the grandma with her, I sent my dear friend down the street a quick text requesting that she send in reinforcement: her spry husband. I set off to the backyard to see what I could do and managed to grab a few tail feathers. With zero help from the ladies, I began to feel quite like a chicken with my head cut off. My running about was pointless until our neighbor came and was able to snatch up the birds. *phew*

We loaded the two buffs up into a crate in the back of her vehicle, and I thanked the lady for taking them off my hands. When asked, she let me know the boys would be the new young studs for her flock of straight buff orphinton hens. My thoughts as they drove away were: So long, love machines! I hope you enjoy crowing to your heart's content, and making some OTHER hens happy!

Assuming my Milk Toast and DPR to be relieved from the constant demands of the young roos, I gave them some seeds for a treat, and said goodnight. I was awakened this morning by the Dread Pirate Roberts reassuming her role as head chicken in the pecking order, squawking and hollering to beat the band. The roosters forced the girls into a temporary egg strike (rotten scoundrels), but this morning I collected two lovely eggs, of which I am all the more thankful. And that my friends is the story of how we are back to our two original Texas hens.

Sadly, this will be the last foreseeable installment of the Borne chicken saga since the new home owners have requested keeping the coop and the girls. I'll be sad to say goodbye, but also relieved knowing they won't have to make the long trip back with us. With two years of chicken keeping behind us, we definitely want to raise more birds in the future. However, for the time being, I am so anxious to to dive head long into FINALLY moving, setting up our new home, and preparing for our next little one.

Happy trails...and fluffy butts.