An Hour of Excitement - in which Hopi doesn't completely lose it

Written Wednesday:

This morning pft had an appt with his sleep apnea Dr (looks like we may be headed in the right direction there, so we'll see how it turns out) and Tom Mayes was supposed to see Fergus this afternoon, so I booked a day "working at home" in between all that stuff. Then Tom postponed until Friday and I didn't have any work, so thought I was going to have to have a day of enforced vacation (and get done all the stuff that I failed to get done over the three day weekend)("the stuff" = anything).

As it turns out, there were fires to fight from work, so I did end up working six hours and once again didn't get anything done - until I looked up and realised it was 7:30 and sunset is 7:30. I'd promised myself – if nothing else – at least I'd trim a "pair of feet" today (either Hopi - needs all four done desperately - or Uno - needs front toes done desperately).

Out on the back deck, struggling into my shoes, I immediately got distracted by small chickens flying onto the roof - was admiring their cleverness in figuring out the safest way up into the roosting tree (the current chook roosting-tree is at the corner of the house, at the end of the dog run). They usually sit on the fence and fly up into it at dusk. And hopefully avoid any interest by the dogs in the process.

Current roosting-tree. If you squint, you can see two chooks in the top left area.

Chooks in roosting mode

But not this time. I went around the corner and discovered both dogs "playing" with one of the teenage chooks. He wasn't looking too hot - down on the ground with Spike looking cheerfully on.   I don't think they like to be "played with". 

Rescued him and took him (stunned and lolling) down to the barn for a night safely tucked up in the chinchilla cage* to recover. I couldn't find any obvious damage - just more dog drool than a chook needs - and thankfully it seems that he was just stunned by his ordeal and appears to have recovered - was walking around within the hour and looking much perkier, so I'm guessing he just got rough-housed. Of course it was my favorite red roosterlet of that bunch. I don't know why I bother having favorites - it's the kiss of death on them.

(* aka chook crêche).

Back in the bosom of his family the following morning,
no worse for wear. He's the red one in the back.

So.

On to trimming.

We got hay delivered today, so everything that normally lives in the barn aisle is being stored temporarily in my trimming space (an open-sided stall closest to the entrance), meaning no space to trim, so I opted to trim in the aisle. Which would have worked fine (probably) if I hadn't picked Hopi to trim.*

(* There was methodic reasoning to this - I figured if I did two of his feet tonight, I'd get the other two done another day, since he can't usually tolerate four feet being done in the same session).

Because I'm too pauperish to buy mats to cover the dirt aisle floor, instead I put down some boards -against mud (winter) or dust (summer), and to drag bales of hay across when the hay truck is too loaded up to fit into the low-roofed barn so has to pull up to the far entrance to unload.

Hopi was a little concerned about standing on the big, heavy 4x8 plywood board, but got used to it soon enough, happily eating out of the hay bag I'd provided, standing with the lead rope looped around the panel a few times (I never tie him when I trim since he can become "excitable").

I trimmed one foot totally without incident, then decided I needed a piece of string to tie the hay bag (on the ground) to the panel, since both he and Uno (inside the stall) were eating out of it and it was moving around too much.

At one end of the aisle is my hay shed - and area that is 8' x 12' with two sliding doors. The door closest to the center was slid open, and the hay area was half-full of 30 bales of hay (they are bringing the rest tomorrow)... and I had one of those "what if" thoughts about how, if Hopi had a meltdown, I could dash in there to get out of his way (one side of the aisle is lined with panels, the other with chook crêche cages, so no escape route for Lucy if she's stupid enough to get trapped at that end). 

I turned to get the piece of string and ... yup... Hopi had a minor meltdown.

 Unsure what set him off but he scootled, tucked his rear end, his back feet slipped on the board, and then he was scrambling around and practically falling down, trying to rear and scootle and panic all at the same time. As designed, the rope came unwoven and - as planned, I dived into the hay shed to get out of his way.

What I wasn't expecting, however, was him diving in after me.

WHAT WAS HE THINKING??? I don't know if he saw me as a safe place, so followed me for protection, or if he was just facing that way and ran forwards, but now there I was, stuck in the hay shed - an area of about 4' x 8' - with a panicking horse who's facing me and threatening to climb up the wall of hay or over the top of me (he's done it before). His back end was covering my exit route - the open sliding door - and behind him in the rear of our 4' x 8' space are two feed bins - the closest one being a metal trash can (for maximum banginess) and I knew if I tried to back him into that gap between the bins and the hay (about 2' x 3') to get him turned around, he'd miss, hit the bin with his back end, panic even more and leap forwards on top of me. Ack.

The space he had me cornered in

The space I needed to back him into (not going to happen) to make space to get out.

Finally opted to grab his lead rope and make a speed dash for the door while turning him to follow me. Not exactly space for him to turn, but better he's turning towards me and the exit than cornering me furthest away from the door.

It worked! He scrambled a bit on the slippery wooden floor of the hay area, but popped out behind me - no damage done, except for a skinned knee (him) and a minor cardiac arrest (me). I shook for about three minutes afterwards but managed to talk nicely to him and praise him for being so clever and not completely losing it.

And got the second foot done. Not well, since I couldn't turn him to face the light without putting him back on the board and that wasn't happening with me underneath him - but got it done in the dark, mostly by feel. He wasn't cooperative, no doubt still in a mild state of alarm, and that was the side he skinned his knee on, so maybe it was sore, but by then pft came down to help me and held him for me while I finished up.

Hum. At least I got something done. Sorta.

The Story of Blinky's Arrival

Cochin #2 - the red hen - is not a good mother. After the birth of black-bubby-cochin, she was sitting on eggs on and off... mostly off. At least once I found the eggs very cold in the nest, so I figured they weren't viable any more.

Went away on vacation for ten days, came back and found her (and her frizzle friend in a second nest box), firmly ensconced on eggs. Oh-kay - so we should expect more bubbies in about two weeks time (they take 3.5 weeks to cook).

Sunday I was picking pond weed out of the trough (green algae... it's good for them, right?) and heard miserably loud peeping coming from the chook house - and sure enough, lying upside down in the dirt was a yellow-n-bloody chicklet. Huh... two weeks early. Seems like this one must have started to cook right when the black chooklet was hatched. So much for non-viable eggs.

Picked it up - definitely didn't look good. The roosters, outraged by its presence, had been working on it for some time, apparently. It had hatched from the red hen's nest, dropped about 4 feet onto the ground (she probably pushed it), and then it was at the mercy of the Big Kids. One side of its head looked very bad and I figured it probably wouldn't make it. But it was still alive, so I put it in a small box with a heat pad and left it to sit quietly.

Blinky's "good" eye :(

Blinky's not so good side

About six hours later, I was mucking the paddock behind the hen house and I hear more peeping. Back to the chook house and look around carefully and found a second chooklet hiding in a bucket. Huh. This one had been minimally pecked and looked pretty healthy compared to its sibling.

Alive and well, with only slightly pecked legs,
the Sibling

So now I have two chooklets inna box.

Monday night, they were both still alive but had gummed-shut eyes. With a damp Q-tip, I was gently able to get both eyes open on the healthier of the two. No luck on the injured one's "better" eye, though.

Tuesday morning, the healthier one was eating and wobbling around. The injured one was still hanging in there - preening itself - but I don't think had figured out the eating thing yet - what with not being able to see anything. It is noticeably lighter than its sibling. But it has not given up yet and seems to be fighting for its right to be here.

We leave on our camping trip Wednesday night and with nowhere to plug in a heat pad, I asked a friend at work if she and her son would be interested in looking after them while we were gone. They had done a great job on a disabled baby chook a year or so ago (twisted leg - now full-grown into an egg-laying hen... still disabled, but cheerily drags around).

So the chooklets came to work with me this morning. The injured one has been christened "Blinky". Think the one eye is gone, but if they can get it's other eye ungummed I think it might just make it.

Time will tell.

Assembling flat-packed furniture

Third Week in July:

Traffic jam on Andy Wolf, Wednesday morning

It's very red. Roop races the dogs on the powerline road

Monday: Sorted out baby chooks - two new ones while we were gone, plus two dead ones (I was afraid of this, since there were multiple hens in the same nest, meaning the babies were cooking at different times, so would hatch at different times and would require a diligent mother. She wasn't.)

Tuesday: Trimmed Roo ready for riding (no longer curly elf-toes after five weeks)

Wednesday: Rode Roo to the bottom of the powerlines where we were thwarted by blackberry bushes that had sprung up since I was last down there. Next time, I go armed with snippers. The ride didn't start well with Spike disappearing on a jaunt before we were even out of the gate, but after five minutes yelling, he reappeared at top speed and we were able to get going. Roo felt pretty good and more or less trotted the entire way to the top of the powerlines (hill n' all). He was predictably hopeless going down the steep hill (toe dragging, unable to get underneath himself - nothing has changed really in six years) so I got off and speed-walked him down. He felt really good coming back up - smooth and strong, which surprised me - this is only the second time I've ridden him since his seven week hiatus. And we made it back home again in record time.


Thursday: Adjusted boots:

(Disclaimer: the rest of this post is about fiddling with Renegade hoof boots and probably offers little interest to anyone who doesn't use them).

This morning's chore was swapping out Renegade captivators with the Viper ones on Small Things's front boots, as well as switching out the long wires for some shorter ones - all part of fine-tuning the boots - they more or less fit, it's just a case of getting them "just right".

Before I started, I adjusted Roo's front boots. That went very smoothly and I was congratulating myself on my new-adjustment skills...

And then I started on ST's boots.

It was like assembling IKEA flat-packed furniture. Insert Tab A into Slot B - only Tab A is the wrong shape... huh... these Viper Caps don't have the black doofah that the wire goes around - I'll just take it off this Ren Cap... uh, they are a different design.. OK, I'll just take it off this other Viper Cap... wait, why do I have this extra Viper Cap? Is it a different size? what size is it? how do I tell what size it is?

And predictably, I got distracted just as I was unscrewing the tiny screw and it dropped onto the rubber mat under my feet - to disappear and never be seen again. pft brought me the magnet-onna-stick and I eventually found it.

Went to put it on ST's foot, only to discover that because the Viper Caps are deeper, the sides protruded further forwards - which meant they were now butting up against the back sides of the boots and I couldn't tighten them enough to be snug on his foot. That won't work.

Back to the barn, remove the Viper Caps, inspect extra Viper Caps in case they are actually smaller, decide they aren't... decide in any case, I think I tried the smaller Viper caps on his front feet and they were *too* small... put the Ren Caps back on...

In the middle of all this, the banties decided to do a drive-by - five roosters came rushing through in pursuit of a single, uninterested hen. All my carefully laid out straps and bits flung.

At least I was clever enough to put Spike on the shorter length of his baling string (the one I use when I'm trimming so he can't get tangled in a horse-being-trimmed's feet) - thereby making sure that he too didn't "help".

How Many Things Can You Fix in Two Weeks?

This morning the toilet chose to block. This was the latest in a long line of malfunctioning things going on at home, which has kept pft busier than he's ever been. Of course we're supposed to be leaving on vacation at the end of the week, and supposed to be packing for that, but so far, other than make a list of "things to take", no packing has happened.

In the last few weeks, in no particular order, he's had to fix:

• Brakes on truck
• Intermittent miss on the miata (still ongoing, after several things replaced)
• Completely re-doing 55 foot of fencing
• Repairing electric fence
• Cutting down a tree leaning on the electric fence
• Killing a rattlesnake that was in the horse paddock
• Dealing with a well-pump controller problem which meant we kept losing all our water pressure on a daily basis
• Fixing the freezer that chose to start leaking when a hose went bad (on a 100°F day)(possibly related to the above)
• Assembling a multiple-mtn-bike-travelling-mount for the truck
• Wrapping my chook crêche in chicken wire to prevent a) babby chooks falling out between the bars* and b) raccoons extracting babby chooks and their mothers out through the bars
• Fetching hay
• Cleaning the house ready for guests who won't arrive for another four weeks, but we won't be around much to do it closer to the time
• Re-riveting the running board on the trailer that popped off when we had to do a tight U-turn camping a few weeks ago and ended up dragging through some earth (actually not done yet, not needed for a couple of weeks, but it's on the list).

(* this happened earlier in the week when I was trimming Hopi - all the chickens were suddenly  making a ruckus, so I came up for air to see what the fuss was, only to find the latest addition walking around on the ground looking traumatized.)

* * *

I've been trying to keep things going at my end by performing at least one task every morning.

A poor exhausted Roo after nearly two miles.
Miraculously cured on the way home.

Monday I took Roop on his first outing in 7 weeks (unless you count the day I led him down the driveway to close the gate at the bottom, and then rode him back up to the top, bareback). He was awful on the way out, weaving and seemingly having a hard time staying on the road - that is until pft on his mtn bike and the dogs took off down a hill and left him behind - at which point he suddenly developed some impulsion. And of course on the way home, he was raring to go, even if he was travelling in a banana-shape... no idea what that's about.

Tuesday I was relieved to finally get around to trim a long-overdue* Hopi - and we finished on a good note, despite discovering when I came indoors that it had been 109°F out there in the barn  (wondered why I was dripping so much). I stopped before he got pissy and, although that meant his back toes didn't get rolled, at least they are short and de-chipped.

(* Hopi always ends up being overdue because he's difficult to trim, has kicked me at least once and I've never forgiven him, so I don't look forwards to it, so can usually find something else to do instead. Luckily he has the best feet of all of them, so even when he overgrows, I can trim and - voila - his feet look perfect again).

Wednesday I lopped branches and vines away from the electric fence. This proved a mistake. I've had some chronic tendonitis (at least that's what I assume it is) going on in my left elbow and it turns out that it really dislikes weed-whacking and lopping (it hurts enough that I can't pick up a glass of water at certain angles... phooey).

And this morning I re-spliced the electric fence where the weed whacker inevitably leapt and grabbed it. At this point the fence should be intact again and we can turn it back on.

* * *

Oh, and backtracking to Sunday evening, pft and I waited until it cooled off and then took Small Thing and a mtn bike out to Cool for an hour's ride. Around dusk (8:45 pm ish) we came across this little guy in the grass right next to the trail. He was a bit surprised by us, I think, and bounded off a ways before stopping to check us out - standing up on his back legs for a better look through the tall grass.

Needless to say, ST was more concerned by the water trough (Instrument of Torture) at the trailhead that I tried to persuade him to drink out of than the bear (Mildly Interesting) - he doesn't suffer histrionics very often.

This was the first time he'd worn back boots in probably over a year and there was much bucking going on. In retrospect, the pastern straps were probably also too tight - I'm gradually learning the new boots and hopefully the next excursion will go a little smoother.

Oh - and I had to laugh at this pic (below) that pft took of us following last week's post about how his feet grow funny. Wonder why that would be?

He can stand normally, I promise. He was just miffed that we should be Getting On With It.

Of New and Old - Dogs and Chooks and Cats

Dogs
Yesterday pft finished planting Chili Dog's memorial chinese pistache tree - and it looks wonderful. Admittedly, Chili left us nearly a year ago, but things take time in our house. The pistache tree will glow in the fall and I'll be able to sit on my bed and put my socks on while zoning out, looking at it (I can already sit on my bed and put on my socks while zoning out, but don't have anything specific to look at so this will be a better excuse).

pft was appropriately abetted by Chili's successor, Finn Dog, who is always willing to help in any way he can. Other than his tendency to pick things up and take them off to his lair, Finn Dog has very little in common with Chili. He is pft's dog, for sure, is small enough to fit on the bed (albeit heavily when he lies on your legs or hogs the covers)(come to think of it, he always hogs the covers), and fluffy to hug and pat and scritchel. He is also blessed with an air dog nature - can leap and bounce without any interference from gravity. And he's a very happy dog. I still miss my Chili Dog all the time, but Finn is a good #2 option.

Chooks

Our current chook quota (up until last weekend) was 8 - a flock of rooster + three free-roaming outdoor hens; and a flock of four closed-up, non-roaming hens. 

Indoor

Two of the indoor hens are from the ill-fated attack last year, resulting in mother and hatching-eggs/chicks being decimated down to one healthy chick and its unhealthy, twisted-leg sibling. These two, Willy and Wonky were destined never to live a life of freedom - not least because Wonky moves around by slithering (although she does a fine job), can't perch and can't fly. 

I figured that if I had to keep "indoor chooks" (they live in the large chicken house next to the horse paddocks), I might as well also get some of the type of chooks that I love but can't usually keep because they get eaten rather quickly - cochins, frizzles, etc. To avoid predators, any outdoor free-roaming chooks need to rely on their quick-wits and flying ability to get up into the trees/up on the barn roof, etc. Predators visit with dismaying regularity once they realise there are two-legged snacks shuffling around in our yard - and large, bad-at-flying, non-jungle fowl-type chickens tend to not do well in this situation and become coyote meals within a matter of weeks. So Willy and Wonky have two cochins for friends. The biggest cochin is like a large fluffy basketball who is fun to pick up and carry around. Frizzles (aka chooks that look like feather dusters) are slated for future arrival, but all in good time.

The good thing about captive chooks is they only have limited places to lay eggs - and in a chook house I can actually find them. So for once we're getting a regular supply of about three eggs a day. The egg mountain is growing in the fridge - currently five dozen in there.

Lynn, who was surrogate mother to Willy and Wonky when we were on vacation last September, was terribly worried that Wonky would get picked on by the other chooks. As it turns out, Wonky's fine (if you ignore her tendency to get wrapped up in baling string, thereby hog-tying herself to parts of her enclosure), but I realised the other day that the aforementioned biggest cochin is pecking on Willy and so her current living situation isn't working. Currently I let her out every morning so that she can gradually integrate with the outdoor flock. She is sufficiently jungle-fowl alike that this should work out. This morning the rooster sidled up to her, amorously. She flew up on the fence, so has figured out escape tactics. It shouldn't be too long before she can live outdoor full-time.

Sebright hen, three peepers, and their new
in-the-process-of-hatching sibling 

Outdoor

The outdoor chooks, as mentioned, consist of the twins (identical chooks), a golden sebright hen, and an old english silver duckwing bantie rooster.  The rooster is a good guy - looks after his flocklet and has only committed one indiscretion attacking pft when we think he felt threatened by a sudden quick movement. Otherwise, he's very benign.

The outdoor chooks sleep up in a tree at night and for the last year or so, the three hens have been laying "somewhere" but I had never figured out where, so despite having chooks, we never got any eggs. And then about three weeks ago the golden sebright hen disappeared. We figured she'd come to a bad end - until we found her up in the hanging bucket (scene of the crime of Willy and Wonky's birth) sitting on 14 eggs. Excellent!

This last weekend, the first three peepers hatched out. Mother, peepers, and remaining eggs were moved to the chook crêche (cage approx 24" W  x 24" H x 50" L). This keeps them safe while allowing the babbies to run about and commune with the outdoor flock. Which in turn means flock integration goes smoothly when the time comes for them to be let out into the world because they've been looking at each other through the wire for the last couple of months. 

This morning a fourth peeper was
hatching as I left for work. Too cool.

In the meantime, one of the twin hens decided she wanted to sit too. Unfortunately, she chose to do so on the hay trailer - on top of the continually diminishing hay bales. Last weekend she got moved to a small cage to keep her safe (the raccoon or skunk that patrols the barn would surely find her on the hay trailer sooner or later). Since she was only sitting on two eggs, I even had the bright idea to add a couple of cochin eggs to her pile - if she was going to spend the time sitting, she might as well do it for more than two and I'd get more cochins. Yay.

Apparently my "bright" idea wasn't... since the cochins never come anywhere near the rooster, unless they're blessed with immaculate conception, I doubt we'll be getting any cochin babies out of those unfertilized eggs. Not bright, me. So I gave them to Finn to eat this morning (after having spent two weeks under a warm chicken, it seemed the best place for them to go. He was pleased). I'm hoping her remaining two* eggs hurry up - think they have another week or so to cook - so I can just stuff them under the sebright and they can all be brought up together. 

(* Have a sneaking suspicion that one of these eggs might be a decoy that I also stole from the indoor chooks to encourage the outdoor chooks to continue laying in that location. As such, this hen might actually just be sitting on one viable egg. What a waste of time.)

Cats

All good things come to an end, and my favorite bed cat, Mumma Cat, is finally winding down and won't be with us too much longer. By our calculations, she's about 18-19 years old and up until last month was pretty sprightly. This last week she's really taken a downward turn so now all we can do is let her lie on us in bed and make her last few days as comfy as possible. I am very sad.

This morning she took a curious stroll outside. I'm not sure exactly what she had in mind, since she's mostly an indoor cat (bad hips) so seldom goes outside. She was wandering down the driveway and then looked like she was considering going in the culvert under the driveway (the culvert where the resident skunk hangs out). Bad idea. I blocked the entrance with a piece of wood and she sat there for a while. pft tells me that she finally came back inside the house in the afternoon. She's earned her right to do whatever she wants at this point (except for disappearing into the culvert... it's just a bad idea on so many levels).

Chooks Earning Their Keep!

Last August we had a predator attack coincide with the hatching of some babby chooks - it didn't go well, as I posted at the time here and here post.

The chooks were later renamed Willy and Wonky by their holiday sitter, Lynn. Wonky never did recover from her wonky leg, and although smaller than Willy, she doesn't seem to have too much trouble scuttling around. She can't perch, but seems happy enough as a ground dweller.

Since Willy and Wonky were going to have to live lives of permanent containment (as opposed to getting to frolic wild and free with the other free-range chooks), I opted to get them a couple of friends - some cochins - big fluffy chickens that resemble footballs and are hopeless when it comes to escaping from predators. They aren't good flyers, so can't get up on the roof/in the trees the way the outside chooks can.

So we now have four 'indoor' chooks and a small flock of five free-range chooks.

The free-range chooks are so good at remaining below the radar when it comes to predators that I don't even know where they sleep, let alone where they might lay their eggs. So we effectively have nine chickens and don't get a single egg out of any of them.

Fast forward to this evening when I went in to feed the horses. I usually check in on the indoor chooks - and particularly this evening, since it's quite cold out. And lo and behold - we have eggs!! Woot!

Can't tell who's laying them, except that it's unlikely to be Wonky because they were laid in the top nest box where Wonky can't get.

"Normal-sized" egg added for reference