The curious case of Savannah the chicken

Savannah has always been an interesting bird. She is a beautiful speckled Sussex with a knack for getting into trouble. She regularly gets out of the yard and can be located in the side garden digging up newly planted peas and beans. She is also the reason we have had to drape the oh-so-fashionable orange construction netting over the fence as she was making forays into the neighbor's yard almost daily. The netting has stopped her from getting into the neighbor's yard but we have yet to discover how the little Houdini is getting into the side garden. She is also now embroiled in something of a farmyard scandal.

I had noticed a day or two ago that Zaida was MIA, missing in action. Looking around for her I finally found her in the duck coop, sitting on a nest. Sigh. Another broody duck. Looks like I will be breaking out the ceramic eggs yet again to replace the real eggs in her nest so as to avoid having more ducklings. Not that I have anything against having more ducklings, but my parents would have something to say about it, and with my luck they would end up being mostly boys anyway. The boys already outnumber the girls around here and ducks, being the (ahem) amorous creatures that they are, are running the girls ragged with all the attention. 

Cut to this afternoon, where Zaida is not, at the moment, a happy camper. She is wandering around the duck run, mouth open whenever anyone comes too close to her, complaining bitterly. Savannah, on the other hand, was clucking up a storm so I investigated to see what I could do to calm Zaida and get Savannah to quiet down. While I went inside to get the keys to the coop (the coops are all padlocked now at night and when doors are not in use, to prevent marauding raccoons from getting into the coops) the clucking stopped. When I came back out and checked on Savannah, the reason was apparent: she was laying an egg in the coop. In the nest box. The duck nest box. Which is currently holding Zaida's nest. She is now happily sitting on the nest, making her contribution the the nesting effort, while Zaida grumps around outside the coop, waiting for her turn to get back on her nest. I suppose after this episode, it will be even harder to catch Zaida off the nest, at which time I would be able to swap the eggs before we end up with ducklings. And, apparently, chicks.

Zaida, the unhappy camper, herself.

Savannah in the duck coop, making her contribution.

The bright side to winter

There are plenty of things I do not like about winter. It's dreary. It's gray. Nothing is growing. It rains -  a lot. It's cold, but rarely do we get snow. We get freezing weather on occasion, and all the headaches that come with it (duck pools that freeze over and an inability to wash out rabbit litter boxes), but don't get to enjoy the fun of snow. (And before you jump down my throat, when you rarely get snow, and have dogs that love to play in it, then yes - it is fun.) 

There is, however, one thing I do like about winter: the hormone levels go way down within the ducks. This means that the ducks are - for the time being - a united flock once again. The boys and girls hang out together without any infighting between the different age groups. I may have mentioned that the Mamas and the Papas and the Littles do not hang out together in the spring and summer. But in the winter time they spend all their time together, running around the yard in little row of all eight ducks. 

Aside from this being enormously cute, it also makes my life easier. I don't have to chase the ducks around in the evening to get them all in the run at the same time, and they go into the coop easily at bedtime. When the hormone levels are higher the boys enter the coop first and lie in wait for the females to enter the coop, where they then jump on the females in an attempt to mate. The females, who are far from unintelligent, know this and do everything they can to avoid going into the coop at night. This means that I can be seen running around the duck run with my arms spread out, trying to gently herd the females into the coop while they dart under, around, and behind the coop in an attempt to avoid me and the doorway. I'm sure I look crazy as I plead with the ducks to just. go. to. bed!

So not only is winter nicer for the female ducks, it is also nicer for me because let me tell you, seeing eight ducks filing into the coop in a nice little row after eating dinner at bedtime is a thing of beauty.  I suppose, it is even nice enough to make up for all the downsides to winter, so bring on the rain.

This land is my land, that land is your land

The ducks are a flock divided, of late. We have the Mommas and the Papas (Rosie, Fern, Gwen and Gemma) and the Littles (Zaida, Olive, Harley and Abigail.) The Mommas and the Papas are so named because they are the parents of the Littles, who are named for the fact that they were originally much smaller. Gracie and Minna are a sort of flock of their own, my two mobility challenged girls who are kept separate from the rest of the flock so as not to be chased or harassed in any way.

But how did the rest of the flock become divided? Basically, it can all be boiled down to one thing: hormones. Now that the Littles are almost a year old they have become ruled by their hormones, as many teenagers are. Gemma, and to a lesser extent, Gwen, have become the object of Little boys affection so the Mommas tend to spend their time with the Papas, who are much less hormonal, being a few years older than the Littles. The Papas, for their part, tend to take excellent care of the Mommas and will chase off the Little boys whenever they get too close for comfort. 

The morning routine of late looks something like this: I fill the food and water bowls and open the gates to the yard and the duck run before letting the ducks out of the coop. Once the coop door is open the ducks come stampeding out of the coop and the Mommas and Papas try to grab a bite to eat before the Little boys lose interest in the food and try to go after one of the Mommas. Once the Little boys turn their attention to the Mommas the older ducks flee the run en masse for the yard. If they can make it to the left side of the yard, where the blueberry bushes are, they seem to cross an invisible line that demarks the territory of the Mommas and the Papas. Should the Little boys cross into this half of the yard in pursuit of the girls, they are immediately chased out by Rosie and Fern. 

So for the most part, the Mommas and the Papas get the left side of the yard. The Littles have claimed the dog run as their territory, and to a lesser extent the right side of the yard. The neutral ground is the patio on the right side of the yard where two of the pools are located. There the ducks will congregate around the pools in a relative truce, so long as the girls are left alone. As long as the ducks maintain their separate territories the flock/s exist in a tenuous peace. Occasionally I will see one of the Littles make an incursion into the left side of the yard only to be chased out by Rosie or Fern. (They usually work as a pair because two Papas outnumber three Littles, but should Rosie or Fern work alone, they will be chased back into the left side of the yard by two or three Littles.) The dynamics among the ducks are complex and varied and I have yet to entirely figure it out but I hold out hope that as the hormones settle down the group may meld into one peaceful flock once again. Fingers crossed, everyone.

Gemma, Rosie and Fern - three quarters of the Momma and the Papas group

Harley, Abigail, and Olive - the hormonal Little boys

How Minna became a house duck. Again.

Minna started out life as a house duck, along with Maggie, but several years ago the parental units had decided that they had had enough and the ducks were exiled to the backyard and the newly built duck coop. They lived outdoors successfully enough for the last several years, and the majority of our little flock lives out there still, in The Duck Coop: The Sequel (we recently built a second, larger, nicer one.) Two of our ducks, however, have made a return to the house - Gracie and Minna. 

Gracie is able to spend her days outdoors where she drives the boys insane by remaining sequestered in the duck run where the boys are unable to reach her. This is especially hard on the boys during the spring time when hormones are running high among the young drakes, but for Gracie's comfort and safety she needs to be left alone and not jumped on multiple times a day. Or hour, as the case may be. 

Minna is another story. We noticed a year or so ago that she was having trouble moving around and would often end up sitting in one place for the majority of the day. A trip to the vet revealed that she has nerve damage and can't get around easily, leaving her at the mercy of the weather, the other ducks, and the chickens. So it was decided that for her comfort and safety she would rejoin us in the house. The years have not been so kind to her and she is starting to show her age, as she is now a little over 13 years old and currently both her knees are dislocated, in addition to her nerve damage. 

She now spends much of her day resting on a dog bed covered in puppy pads, going outside in the duck run for short periods of time, eating her meals in the bathroom using a feeding platform to allow her to be at standing height without putting pressure on her knees, getting treats like blueberries and peas (some of her favorites) and taking a daily bath in the bathtub to keep her clean and happy. I would let her spend more time driving the young drakes crazy with Gracie, but the vet recommended she spend her time on mostly soft surfaces so that she doesn't develop the equivalent of bed sores, which would shorten her life. And before you ask, the vet has already stated that she would not recommend putting Minna to sleep at this point and I can't bear the thought of letting her go before she may be ready. 

Minna (on her feeding platform) and Gracie, enjoying some duck chow

In addition to making her a feeding platform out of fabric and PVC pipes, I have also made a wheelchair in much the same way, with the addition of wheels and a handle, so that when the weather finally turns nice I can take her out for little walks in the neighborhood to let her nibble at plants and enjoy the sunshine. And fear not for our reputation: the neighbors already know we're crazy.

Scout can't resist getting in the picture with Minna's new wheels

All grown up, and limping along

Well, it wouldn't be life on the Unfarm without at least one thing going wrong with our new ducklings. I think we must attract special needs animals. In this case, Gracie started limping not long after she hatched. Taking her to the vet - multiple times - finally led to a diagnosis: the tendon in her knee had slipped out of the groove it is supposed to stay in, leading her to start limping as the muscle pulled the leg into an awkward angle. 

We did everything we could for her: we tried physical therapy but she decided that she was going to be the first duck in the history of ducks who does not like swimming, which was what she needed to do for her PT. I tried anyway, and I gave her all the recommended medications and kept her from running around on the leg too much and separated her from the boys so no one would try mating with her, putting too much pressure on her body. At one point, she was even wearing a little boot the vet made for her. We even sprung for an experimental knee surgery with our veterinarian: they put pins in her knee to hold the tendon in place with the hope that should would make scar tissue that would hold the tendon in place when the pins eventually had to be pulled out. Spoiler alert: she did not. 

Gracie in her boot, out for a stroll

So where are we now? Well, Gracie is all grown up and still limping, and her leg is bent at an angle so she can't put all her weight on it, and she spends her nights in the house with Minna, our house duck, (a story for another time) but goes outside in a separated run during the day in nice weather. For now she doesn't appear to be getting any better - and I don't expect her to - but neither does she appear to be getting worse. So I make her life as easy and comfortable as possible and hope that she can continue on much as she has been - limping but not uncomfortable - and enjoying the best of both worlds, indoor and out. Fingers crossed she holds steady, as we are, after all, experienced with special needs pets, and I would rather deal with a limping duck than the alternative which would be to have her put to sleep.

A tale of two duck nests... and the ducklings that followed

A couple of months ago, Gwen went broody and started sitting on a nest she had carefully concealed in the coop. She dutifully sat day in and day out on the nest and spent her time rotating her eggs and building up her nest until it was roughly the size that would comfortable house an eagle. And it didn't just stay in one place, no, that would be too simple. So every few days she would move the entire nest and all the eggs inside it to somewhere else in the coop. To say she was industrious would be understating it. On the few occasions when she did leave the nest, to get something to eat or drink or just run around the yard for a few minutes, she would carefully cover the nest back up with straw, and often threw some over her shoulder for good measure on her way out the door. 

About halfway through with her nesting I noticed that there appeared to be two nests in the coop and some of the eggs had migrated into the new nest. Not wanting the eggs to get too cold, I put them back into the bigger nest and then left the coop alone so that Gwen could nest in peace when she got finished with her free time. And yet, each time I was able to check the coop the eggs would be divided up again. It seemed that one of our other females, Gemma, had decided that going broody was apparently the "in" thing to do so she joined Gwen in the coop. 

Now there were two nests that migrated around the coop, making a kind of circuit, going from the back right corner to the center right to the front, moving from right to left, to the center left side. They were in the process of moving into the back left corner of the coop when I noticed, during one of their brief breaks from the nest, that one of the eggs had pipped but was slightly crushed and bleeding in places from the shell. I decided at that point that one of the mothers - probably Gemma as this was her first experience going broody and she is heavier than Gwen - had likely stepped on the shell and the duckling inside was going to need help. I removed the egg from the nest and gave some slight assistance in helping the duckling to hatch enough to be able to breathe and get out on their own. Adina, as I named her, hatched with the yolk still attached by the umbilical cord so I left her alone, keeping her warm and letting her rest while I hoped the cord would take care of itself in a matter of hours or days. She survived that way for a few days but passed away on the third day. 

Gwen and Gemma on their nests

Gwen with little Gracie, the day I found her

A few days later, Gracie hatched - strong and healthy and peeping away in the coop one morning. I decided to let her stay with her mom and see if Gwen could manage to raise a duckling. When I went out a day or two later to shoo Savannah (our poor little battered hen that Lilly loves to pick on) off the deck I noticed a little yellow speck on the patio. Gwen had, apparently, decided it was ok to let Gracie wander the patio by herself, surrounded by chickens and other adult ducks and a whole lot of yard to get lost in. Nope. Not happening. I set up the brooder in the house and popped her in it.

Gracie

Harley

Olive

Harley hatched next, and then Olive. Little Zaida hatched fourth, with the umbilical cord still attached and I didn't think she was going to make it, as she kept trying to push the shell away from her while it was still attached. I left her in the brooder, separated from the rest of the ducklings, and went to sleep. I was amazed to find her alive in the morning, and no longer with the umbilical cord attached. And after finding several more ducklings that had died in the coop, pipped too early or pushed out of the nest while hatching, I decided to set up the incubator for the last viable egg in the coop. It had started to pip so I didn't do any turning, but left it alone in the incubator and found it totally hatched a couple of mornings later. Abigail appears to be the last of the ducklings. 

Zaida, our miracle baby

They are all in the brooder in the house now, and doing well. They love water, and kale and watermelon for treats. At the moment, they are all different sizes and each has slightly different markings but I don't know how long that will last for. We still aren't sure if Gemma is a mallard or a rouen duck but we do know that Gwen is a magpie. Fern, our older male, is an ancona duck and Rosie is our younger male and a magpie/ancona cross. So the ducklings are some mixture of magpie/ancona or mallard-rouen/magpie/ancona breeds. Gracie is for sure a magpie mix, and I suspect Harley is as well... Olive is less certain, and Zaida and Abigail could have some mallard-rouen in their heritage. All of our birds are given girls names, in the hopes that they will turn out to be females. That's how we ended up with drakes named Fern and Rosie, and roosters named Lilly and Gretchen. 

To say that my parents are thrilled with this duckling development would be a lie. They are, in fact, much dismayed to find that we have five new ducklings. I'd like to point out, however, that it could be worse: all 14 of the eggs in the nest could have survived and hatched. Let's count our blessings. 

Abigail

 

Now departing on flight 327

I have, unfortunately, another departure to report. Last night, March 27, we lost Ingrid, the last of our mice. She had been slowing down lately and not eating as much but when I checked on her in the evening I found her uninterested in her dinner and breathing heavily in her little castle. I picked her up and held her while she took her last breaths and tried my best to comfort her and let her know that she wasn't alone as she died. 

She was the least troublesome out of the batch of three mice, including her, Hermione, and Josephine, that I most recently acquired. When I got them they must have been fairly young as they easily (and regularly) slipped through the bars of their cage to scramble about on top of the cage. 

It was because they were able to get through the bars of the cage that we lost - and then found - Josephine when she made it off the top of the cage and disappeared in the house for four days. She was hungry and quite thirsty when we found her but somehow she survived being loose in a house with two dogs and two cats. She was the first to pass away several months after her big adventure. 

Hermione suffered from skin irritation and was on daily medication to help calm her itchiness but even with all her skin problems and frequent trips to the vet she managed to outlive Josephine; she was the second to pass away. 

Ingrid outlasted them all, living to the ripe old age of nearly 3 years, about a year past the average life expectancy of pet mice, who generally live one to two years. Ingrid never went on walkabout throughout the house, and didn't have to visit the vet with any regularity, choosing instead to exercise on her wheel and build elaborate hidey holes in the bedding in her cage instead of getting into trouble. 

We will definitely miss her, as we miss all the animals that have passed through the Unfarm, but we are glad she lived as long as she did and take comfort in the fact that she never ended up as the snake food she was most likely destined to be without us. Have a safe flight, Ingrid.

On ceramic eggs and the intelligence of ducks

Ceramic eggs are in existence to help chicken owners. The eggs are designed to look like real eggs and you simply place them in the location you want your chickens to lay their eggs and they take that as a cue that this is the hot new spot to lay their eggs. I mean, if the other chickens are doing it, why shouldn't they lay their eggs there as well? The ceramic eggs can also be used to discourage chickens who have decided that they should peck at and eat the eggs. Ceramic eggs are much harder to get into, and much less tasty if they do. I haven't heard a great deal about using ceramic eggs with ducks but I figure if it works for the chickens then it's bound to work for the ducks as well. Right? 

Ducks are much smarter than they typically get credit for. When last I cleaned the coop and replaced a bunch of real eggs with ceramic eggs I reasoned that the ducks would assume everything was as they left it that morning and their eggs were still safely ensconced in their nest. Gwen and Gemma, my two outdoor female ducks, did continue to use the nest and did not seem upset over the loss of any eggs (we lost a duck once when she flew away forever after her eggs were removed from her nest) so I assumed that the ceramic eggs had done their job and fooled the ducks. I was wrong. When I cleaned the coop today and went to remove the real eggs I discovered that the girls had been using their nest but every time they laid an actual egg, they would roll a ceramic egg out of the nest to make room for the new egg. By the time I came in to clean the coop the nest was full of real eggs and the ceramic ones were scattered all over the floor of the coop. How they knew the eggs were fakes I am unsure of but realize it they did. This may be why I had not heard much about using fake eggs with ducks. I am, once again, reminded not to underestimate my duck's intelligence. It seems the only one fooled when I do that is me.

The haul for today: 22 duck eggs

Christmas mathematics

1 indoor duck + 1 fresh cut Christmas tree + tree stand full of water = 1 wet duck + puddles on the floor

Minna has, for the last several weeks since the weather turned cold and wet, been living the high life indoors. She spends her days on the couch, eats her meals in the bathroom and sleeps on the floor in a puppy pen in my room at night. She is nearing 12 years old now and has trouble getting around and is no longer waterproof so living outside just isn't safe for her right now. She and Maggie used to live inside at night all the time, wearing diapers and hanging out in the bunny room but spending their days outdoors when they were younger but this is the first time that she has spent her days indoors as well. She gets along well with the other animals and the dogs tend to give her space so she is trusted to stay in the living room on the couch (with puppy pads down) during the daytime. 

She'll sometimes get off the couch and wander into the bathroom looking for food or a drink but for the most part she stays put so imagine my surprise today when I came home from work (walking a dog) to find her sitting in my purse on the floor in the living room. I picked her up to put her back on the couch and discovered that she was soaking wet. I knew I hadn't given her a bath so where did she find the water? Following the puddles of water led me to the base of the Christmas tree. Minna had, somehow, figured out that the tree stand the tree was sitting in was full of water and had taken herself a nice little bath, happily splashing water everywhere on the living room floor before heading over to preen herself in my purse. 

Ducks are much smarter than people usually give them credit for, I have found. Once they know an area has water or food they will continue to return to the area to check for food or water in the future. So now, along with our fairy lights, snowmen, and stockings that we decorate the house with it looks like I will have to add bunny gates to the list; placing them in the living room around the base of the tree just to keep Minna from taking any more baths there. Fortunately, I am adept at making bunny gates out of metal grids. I just hope Minna doesn't learn that she can push the gate aside like she does with her puppy pen as there is nothing that I can zip tie the gates to in order to keep them in place. She is nothing if not determined. 

The catio, and how it came to be

Max is a lover of the great outdoors. He likes to look at the great outdoors, smell the great outdoors, and - most importantly - be in the great outdoors. This would be fine if he were a dog and thus easily contained behind fences. Alas, he is a cat and fences prove little obstacle for him. He can wiggle over, under or through our fences and is therefore not allowed to be in the great outdoors. (Too many dangers for a small creature like him to be exposed to around here.) To make it up to him, and to try and curb his desire to dart out any door open longer than about 2.3 seconds, I wanted to build him a catio. You know, a patio for cats. Dad, however, was not so keen on my idea to fence in under the front yard deck to give Max a place to hang out where he could be safely contained but still enjoy the outdoors. "It will look ugly and cost too much money," he claimed. 

 So I did what any good daughter would do: I waited until he went on a trip and did it myself. (That is how many of our projects get done around here.) One weekend, while Dad was on a bike trip and Mom was at a medical conference, I gathered the lumber and hardware cloth from Home Depot and put the catio together. The hardest parts of the entire project were digging out an enormous concrete footing from a previous decking project that was in the way, and getting a roughly 15 foot long 2x6 board into place 5 feet up off the ground. The rest of the project was relatively simple. I built wooden frames that I screwed to the underside of the deck so that I had something I could attach the hardware cloth to. I put in a door so that we could access the catio, or so that in case of emergency someone from inside the house would be able to get out, and added a small cat house and then some bark dust to keep the mud under control. The last thing I added was a cat door in the existing house window and I was finished. All told, it took about 3 days from start to finish. Mom was quite pleased as she had always been on the catio bandwagon. Once Dad got over the surprise he seems to have accepted it as well. He will occasionally even say to me, "I'm so glad I convinced you to build that catio for Max."

Max seems to be quite content with his new catio. Granted he would likely prefer it if it were in the sun so that he could lounge around when the weather is nice but he does go out there quite often, especially at night when he can hunt for whatever little creatures it is that he hunts for. Bugs, moths, little shrews that he brings - still alive - into the house with him for Mom to find in her office... you know, the usual.

A view of the door to the catio, and the cat house inside it

Front view of the catio

Catio side view

Catio side view, with Max's hanging bed inside