Is a new chicken tractor for the Silkies. We'll be getting rid of what's left of them shortly, but they still need a better place. Eventually, this tractor will be the home of our Brown ISAs that I'll be ordering for a late February delivery.
This morning, I woke up around 6:00. Shortly after 7:00, I heard a distressed chicken. I went outside, and it was Mrs. Rumphius, in the front corner of the yard, looking for the rest of her flock. I put her in the tractor, where Honey was still. Then I spotted Fluffy, dead on the ground.
"BAD, BAD DOG," I yelled at Rosie as I showed her the dead bird and brought her to her tether. I got the dog chained, let the Buffs out, and went to find the rest of the Silkies. I made a quick trip inside to wake up New Daddy, who was already waking up, thanks to my yelling in the yard.
At first, I thought Rosie had eaten the chick, but I soon found it just outside the Silkies' tractor. She had merely killed it, played a little, and left it. After the Buffs had been out for a while, Mr. Tableson decided that it was safe to venture out, and I was never so happy to see that rooster! I put him back in the tractor with his two remaining hens, and they've been very quiet all day.
When the kids woke up, I told them what had happened and showed them the hen and the chick outside. I got a smile from Cutie, who said, "Oh, poor chickie!" And then looked up at me and laughed. You've got to love how three year-olds approach death.
New Daddy buried the two chickens just before breakfast.
So, now. Silkie population back to pretty much what it was two years ago, minus the one that got killed by the hawk, and minus the cockerel that I sold in my mom's yard sale after it started crowing. All of those sweet, broody mamas and their five chicks have come to nothing. We are left with three Silkies, thanks to one very naughty puppy.
Oh, and a slightly negligent chicken keeper.
I hadn't shored up the gap between the bottom of the tractor and the ground. It was covered with a sheet of hardware cloth, and Rosie pulled it off the wooden frame. With no wood wedged in the gap, there was a hole big enough for all of the chickens to escape the tractor. And that is why New Daddy is building a new tractor today! For now, it'll be for the Silkies; in several months, it'll be the home for our Brown ISAs.
It's events like this that keep us reminded that life is pretty much about death.
A city where this also will be true:
This morning, I woke up around 6:00. Shortly after 7:00, I heard a distressed chicken. I went outside, and it was Mrs. Rumphius, in the front corner of the yard, looking for the rest of her flock. I put her in the tractor, where Honey was still. Then I spotted Fluffy, dead on the ground.
"BAD, BAD DOG," I yelled at Rosie as I showed her the dead bird and brought her to her tether. I got the dog chained, let the Buffs out, and went to find the rest of the Silkies. I made a quick trip inside to wake up New Daddy, who was already waking up, thanks to my yelling in the yard.
At first, I thought Rosie had eaten the chick, but I soon found it just outside the Silkies' tractor. She had merely killed it, played a little, and left it. After the Buffs had been out for a while, Mr. Tableson decided that it was safe to venture out, and I was never so happy to see that rooster! I put him back in the tractor with his two remaining hens, and they've been very quiet all day.
When the kids woke up, I told them what had happened and showed them the hen and the chick outside. I got a smile from Cutie, who said, "Oh, poor chickie!" And then looked up at me and laughed. You've got to love how three year-olds approach death.
New Daddy buried the two chickens just before breakfast.
So, now. Silkie population back to pretty much what it was two years ago, minus the one that got killed by the hawk, and minus the cockerel that I sold in my mom's yard sale after it started crowing. All of those sweet, broody mamas and their five chicks have come to nothing. We are left with three Silkies, thanks to one very naughty puppy.
Oh, and a slightly negligent chicken keeper.
I hadn't shored up the gap between the bottom of the tractor and the ground. It was covered with a sheet of hardware cloth, and Rosie pulled it off the wooden frame. With no wood wedged in the gap, there was a hole big enough for all of the chickens to escape the tractor. And that is why New Daddy is building a new tractor today! For now, it'll be for the Silkies; in several months, it'll be the home for our Brown ISAs.
It's events like this that keep us reminded that life is pretty much about death.
For here have we no continuing city, but we seek one to come.
Hebrews 13:14
A city where this also will be true:
The wolf and the lamb shall feed together, and the lion shall eat straw like the bullock: and dust shall be the serpent's meat. They shall not hurt nor destroy in all my holy mountain, saith the LORD.
Isaiah 65:25
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