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.

Hello, my name is Houdini

We have, amidst our chickens, an escape artist. One of the "littles" (our most recent batch of chickens, as opposed to the "bigs" who have been here longer) has been getting out of the back yard. At first we weren't sure how exactly Savannah was escaping, but we would occasionally find her in the front yard, wandering through the garden or in the neighbors yards, searching for bugs. Each time, we tracked her down and put her back into the relative safety of the back yard. A couple of days ago we finally figured out how she was making a break for it: she was going over the six foot high fence. All this time we assumed she was going under the fence and we dutifully shored up any holes and gaps but she still managed to get out. When we saw her walking along the top of the fence the other day we had our answer. 

Today, while doing a random head count on the sneaking suspicion that Savannah might have gone on walkabout once again, we came up one short: Savannah was indeed missing. Thus ensued a search that grew more serious and frantic when we failed to locate her in one of her usual haunts. We checked the front yard, the side yard, the neighbor's yard and the other neighbor's yard and yet another neighbor's yard. We searched the little forest across the street and the empty water district lot and the backyard once again. No sign of her. It was on our third or fourth search of the closest neighbor's yard that we heard a soft clucking sound and suspected she was nearby but we still hadn't laid eyes on her. As we turned around to give up and look elsewhere I happened to spot her in the corner of the front yard, behind a pile of wood I had stacked against the fence while I made a catio last year. She was nestled in as if she was planning on laying an egg there and after coaxing her out with bird seed we discovered that laying an egg had indeed been on her mind. Today and for the previous two weeks. She was guarding a nest of 15 eggs, making it evident that she had been escaping to the front yard regularly, for the last two weeks at least, to lay her eggs where she was sure to be safe from the prying eyes of other chickens and the thieving humans who feed, water and shelter her, before slipping quietly back into the back yard to join the flock while the humans remained ignorant of her escapades.

We are unsure as to whether or not she was becoming broody or if she simply didn't want other chickens around while she laid her daily egg. In the event that she was going broody we did move her eggs into the little little coop - a small coop that only gets used when a chicken needs to be quarantined or we have baby chicks - to give her a chance to settle on them should she so choose. She did not choose. She promptly hopped out of the coop and ran off to join the other littles to search for treats or bugs. We'll likely leave the eggs there another day or two to see if she changes her mind, but in the meantime we're probably going to have to consult professor YouTube on the proper technique for clipping a chicken's wings. She simply can't be allowed to wander the front yard unsupervised - there are too many dogs, cats, bobcats, coyotes, and cars for it to be considered safe - and despite what she may think, we do know what is best. 

The pile of wood leaning against the side of the house and the fence

The corner where we found Savannah

Savannah's nest of 15 eggs

Oops, we did it again

Well, we did it again. We rolled the dice on a new batch of chicks and we ended up with three little hens... and a rooster. Oy. This one is a barred rock rooster named Lilly. Had he been a she it would have worked out well because then we would have Lucy and Lilly, two barred rock hens. As it stands, Lilly is definitely not a hen - which I began to suspect early on when he grew faster than the other three (Pearl - a black Australorp, and Sally and Savannah - speckled Sussex hens) and his legs were bigger as well. The tell tale pointed feathers and the doubt erasing crowing didn't show up until several weeks later. 

Savannah and Sally

Pearl, hanging out in the top of the Japanese maple tree

So now we have two roosters and two separate flocks: the "bigs" and the "littles." Gretchen rules the bigs, who reside in the bigger coop and spend half the day in their run, and Lilly is the leader of the littles, who sleep in the little coop and spend the whole day roaming freely simply because they are littler than the bigs and haven't integrated into the flock yet. I'm sure the neighbors are thrilled.* We will be making Lilly a crow collar soon, however, so hopefully the crowing will calm down a bit. Gretchen seems relatively resigned to his crow collar: he seems to crow less frequently than Lilly and when he does crow, the volume is somewhat reduced. I have often wondered if the diminished volume of his crow is a source of some embarrassment to him so he just decides to stay quiet most of the time. Lilly, currently without a crow collar, has no such inhibitions. He crows regularly and loudly throughout the morning. He seems to refrain from raising a ruckus as soon as the bigs are let out of their run to free range during the afternoon and evening. Lilly appears to recognize that Gretchen is indeed the supreme ruler of the backyard (even the dogs are scared of him) and is wise enough not to tangle with him or antagonize him in any way, including crowing, which would only serve to alert Gretchen to Lilly's location hidden away in the grape arbor any way. 

In thinking about it now, I realize that we seem to have bad luck with barred rocks. Aside from Lucy, every other barred rock chicken we have had here on the Unfarm has been a rooster. A few years ago, when we allowed Georgia to hatch a batch of eggs after she went broody, we ended up with several barred rock chicks (on account of the fact that Georgia was stealing the other hen's eggs and rolling them into her nest) and every one of them turned out to be roosters. And now Lilly. 

We can only hope that he will be a friendly rooster so that we are not forced to send him away. Dad tolerates Gretchen when Gretchen is confined in the run but will not venture into the backyard when Gretchen is roaming freely, as Dad is adamant that Gretchen will attack him if given the chance. I have always found him to be pretty nice to Mom and I but maybe he just doesn't like men. I don't know if our luck would hold out if we ended up with two "attack roosters."

* Note: Fear not, we actually talk to our neighbors fairly regularly and they don't really seem to mind the chickens. One neighbor actually suggested we get a rooster to accompany our hens, not realizing we already had one at the time.

Lilly, our barred rock rooster