The Results Are In.....

Most Popular Poultry - 2009

It was a landslide. Stubs is your favorite chicken!

Should Stubs be unable to fulfill her duties as the Most Popular Poultry, (you know how scandals have a way of finding you), Helen will step in.

(I can just hear you talking now.....'is that chicken in her kitchen....oh my...that's unsanitary'..., well...that is why they make bleach girls)

I'm coming to realize that you just can't put a hat on a chicken. I fashioned a lovely crown for Stubs this morning, but it just wouldn't work. I mustn't give up.

I can't thank you enough for all of your comments! It was so nice to 'meet' some new faces here, and as always to hear from my old friends. I do plan on visiting each and everyone of you...give me a day or two.

I'm starting to think all this attention is going to Stubs' head. This morning she asked me if she could attend the School of the Art Institute in Chicago. I tried explaining that with homeschooling and all I've just not the time to be taking her to the train station, and that it was a long walk from the train station to Michigan Avenue and all...

"I'll do my best" I replied.

Good old Stubs. Can't keep a good woman down.

Ohh...you want to know who won the book too, huh?

I'm happy to say that Jennifer...Captain's Wife won the book! Jennifer has been a long time reader and commenter on the blog, and I'm so happy for her.

Send me an email with your address ok Jennifer?

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go break the news to Stubs that chickens don't go to school, well....in the 'real' world anyway. Maybe I can find her an Art tutor.

Tour de Coop

Stubs would like to invite you of a tour of the chicken coop! Won't you join us?

You remember Stubs, right? She's toeless thanks to a wicked raccoon. She's the impressionist artist? If you've not met her, click on the archives and read 'Meet Stubs'.

Mother Plumtree! How did you get in here? I told you, wait your turn. She's so anxious to show you her stitchery that she just finished. It's hanging on the wall there. Cross stitched. I think she sat up many a night to finish it in time for you all to see it today. Looked how puffed up she is. So proud. Silly bird.

Here is what the coop looks like from my little brick sidewalk. I used to use that area as a potting area before we built the coop. It was a pretty neglected area, so this is a much better use of the space.

Here's the roost box that we built out of garbage....oh, I mean 'reclaimed' materials. We actually used the potting bench (found in the trash) and a couple of old windows (found in the trash). I'd been saving those windows for 10 years, hoping to one day build a cold frame. A few sheets of plywood that were laying around finished it up.

Aaron actually designed this little roost box for me. He wants to be an architect, so I figured he could do this. He did a great job. See how it opens for easy cleaning? I feel like the girls are pretty safe in there. I have opposable thumbs and sometimes I have a hard time opening the door for them. The coop is 10 x 10, which is supposed to be big enough for 10 birds, but I let them out to free range every day. Do you know what the definition of free range is? Destroy your garden.

Poor Stubs can't roost, so we built her a little small platform to sit up with the other birds since this photo was taken.

Aren't those old hinges cool? That is one thing I love about Glenco. He saves EVERYTHING and he is a scavenger. We see old doors and the like on the side of the road, he'll pull over and yank the hardware off if it's neat, or just take the whole danged door.

The latches on these old windows are what made me fall in love with them. They are old metal windows that we found by the trash in the historical district of Crown Point. I love trash night almost as much as I love bacon.

Here is another prime example of the ingratitude of chickens. Of course I want their little abode to be all cozy, so I planted a nice Hydrangea 'Limelight' for them to enjoy, and sit under. They ate it, and then dug it up for me. Thanks girls.

But I can't stay mad long, when I see the sweet little faces of my girls. What is it about chickens that I adore? Why do I want to hold them and kiss them? Why do I want to dress them and make little rolling pins and teach them to make pies?

Is there a medication for this?

Meet Stubs

Look at this pretty little girl. Boy, does she have a tale to tell. She was one of the original birds I got, and one of the little chickens that's on my banner. She is also the egg layer right now. Yay stubs! Love this little bird. She was called a 'Production Red' when I bought her.

She is the top hen. I was really surprised to find this out, since I re-introduced her into the flock after some time. She was the oldest, so I'm not sure if that makes a difference or not. I thought with her disability she would get pecked. Quite the contrary! She does the pecking!

She is ALWAYS the first bird out in the morning.

Here's her poor little chicken feet. I'm assuming a raccoon chewed her toes off. Have I told you lately how I hate coons? Oh yes. The feeling festers. While we were camping, a friend of mine kept my birds, and they were just little babies. She kept them all up in a rabbit hutch. Well something held little Stubs down and chewed her toes off! My friend kept her and nursed her back to health. I had Helen at the time. It was a regular chicken rehab around here!

I was so concerned that Stubs wouldn't be able to walk up the ladder, or do other little chicken things. She can't roost, or prepare her dust baths. Helen dutifully prepares them for her. She can't scratch her head, so I do that for her. Other than that, she's a full fledged chicken bird.

She's the first one to come a runnin' when I call the birds. She seems like she likes to be held. I play with her little 'flapples' all the time. I think they are called wattles, but I like calling them flappies. So there.

I told the girls all about our trip to the Museum of Contemporary Art. Stubs was quite intrigued. I think she feels a little left out with all the creativity about the coop. She can't hold a needle like the other girls. She wanted to try her hand at painting. Of course, I obliged. I'm never one to squelch a creative mind.

I didn't have the heart to tell her that it just looked like chicken scratch to me. She was SO pleased with herself. I'll hang it in the coop to encourage her. She's wanting oil paints, but I'll only get her the non-toxic latex paint. Can you imagine cleaning oil paint off of those claws?

She's pretty good at rolling out pie crust too. The other girls claws get in the way and shred the crust up. I can tell by the look on her beak that she takes great pride in that.

Oh little Stubs. How I love you. I'll scratch your itches and play with your flappies all day. You are my little baby sweet bird.

The Early Bird Gets The Worm....

The Coop Keeper felt the need to sleep in until 7 today. The girls weren't too happy. Unbeknownst to me, they had this big meeting planned. I wasn't invited. Apparently they do this every morning. I guess I must be blogging or something when it happens.

I was weeding nearby, trying to nonchalantly eavesdrop. Stubs was leading the meeting, and assigning the daily tasks. Fifi LeFew was to be on cat patrol. What was Stubs thinking? She's much too anxious for that! Maybe I should put a bit of Xanax in her mash. Mother Plumtree was to monitor the southeast corner of the yard, looking for grasshoppers. Scarlett was to take the northwest corner, gleaning for leftover mulberries that had fallen. I could tell by the expression on her beak, she was none to happy about it. Common work for a glorious red hen. Helen was to scout the entire yard looking for freshly mulched areas to destroy and prepare for dust baths. They always take advantage of Helen! The whole yard? Really Stubs? Isn't that a bit much? By now I could tell they knew I was listening, so they broke it up.

Off they went.....Stubs leading the flock. I rolled my eyes at her as she passed. She shot me a look that could kill. "Hey, wait a minute there Stubs'......she kept walking. Acting like a rooster I must say. Cocky. She must be the top hen. "I'm the Coop Keeper baby" I said, pointing my trowel at my chest "....ya, ME". She pooped and kept walking.

The Peep Show will continue tomorrow........