Silver does not want to give up her eggs...or anyone else's, for that matter!

If you were to just pop into my house, and open up my refridgerator and see my eggs, you'd probably freak out. They're dirty! Yup. I snatch them from under the hen and pop them straight into the fridge, even if those hens have been walking through the mud to get to their nests and the eggs are dirty.

Why wouldn't I wash them? Well, I do wash them when I'm ready to cook them, but not before. When you wash an egg, you risk the water soaking through the pores of the shell, carrying bacteria inside the egg. If this bacteria is harbored long, you run the risk of contaminating it and making yourself sick when you eat it. The risk of salmonella is incredibly low in raw eggs, did you know that? Most salmonella is on the outside of the shell, which means if they've gotten wet and sat around, you've got yourself a potential problem. Personally? I still eat raw cookie dough =>

I sat down to the computer the other day and as I began pulling photo off my camera I came across a set that I hadn't taken. Judging by the looks of the fingernails in the photos, Darling hadn't taken them, either.

This pic shows the chick's third eyelid.

The turkey eggs never hatched. I got word that the one remaining hen turkey over at my friend's managed to hatch out nine babies. But the incubated eggs? Well, they just went through too much stress. Too cold, I suspect, between loosing their mamma and getting into the incubator here.

We're down to two ducklings. One died the first week. The three remaining ducklings had been moved outside to a pen alongside the horse and sheep. I got up the other morning to feed and found the yellow duckling missing. I'd hesitated putting them in with the hens, as chickens can be very aggressive. However, it was worth the risk for the last two ducklings. Thankfully, they're bigger than the hens and everyone is getting along fine.

Another loss. One of our chicks died. I found it with it's head in the water, no doubt trampled by it's brothers and sisters while trying to get a drink, causing it to drown. That is the sad side of farm life. You invest time and emotion, and you suffer loss. After a while, you begin to accept the losses without so much grief, especially with poultry; they do everything they can to kill themselves, and they're quite good at it. I suppose I don't feel the same grief because I've invested more emotion in sheep, dogs and horses. Which isn't to say I've never felt sad when we loose a chick or duckling. But it's part of life.

Don't forget to vote today! http://www.blogforayear.com/profiles/desperate-horsewife

Super Chick, the Movie

Okay, it's not exactly an action packed, super hero kind of movie. I mean, I tried tying a little cape around one of their necks, but it just didn't work like I'd envisioned it. So then we tried a shell, but it gave the chick a rather turtle-ish look, and the other chicks just laughed...

It's no secret that a domestic goddess I am not. And just to help solidify my claim to kitchen shame, I tried to burn up my tea kettle the other morning. My morning ritual is stumbling out of bed, starting the water, then pulling up the blog. I wait for the whistle and go make myself a cup of hot chocolate.

But as I was sitting here, completely consumed in photo shop, I realized that it'd been several minutes, and I hadn't heard my whistle. So I peeked out the door to the kitchen, and what did I see?

FLAMES!

Okay, not the first time, and probably not the last, that I've seen fire in the kitchen. This time the outside of the tea kettle was roasting nicely. I rather like the new color; gives it a rather vintage look, don't you think?

My 'new' vintage tea kettle.

Don't forget that tomorrow is Winsday! Plus, an update on The Screamer.

I'm going to go try to microwave water now in hopes of getting my morning chocolate fix. Cross you fingers that I don't set the microwave on fire!

For your viewing pleasure, a few pictures of the chicks as they were hatching out this afternoon. Because it can take up to 24 hours between the first and last egg, and because there are still several eggs left that have yet to crack open, I'll be leaving the contest open until this evening. Tomorrow's post will give you the total count.

A new chick emerges from it's egg while it's sibling looks on.

It takes several hours for a newborn chick to go from slimey to fluffy.

One of the new black chicks

If you've ever wondered how newborn chicks can be shipped at a day old, spending hours in a box without food or water, it's because they have consumed the yolk of the egg prior to hatching. They don't need food for the first 24 hours. Too bad our own babies aren't like that, eh? Can you imagine getting a nice, long nap after you've struggled with labor for hours and hours, with no midnight or 2 am feeding to interupt you? Some days I think perhaps chickens are a little brighter than we give them credit for.

If you take a look at the middle picture, you'll see the egg on the bottom right has a crack in it. Again, another small sign that perhaps chickens are superior to humans. Not only does the mother hen not have to feed her young 'uns that first 24 hours, but she never had to go through labor! These little chicks have spent hours pecking away at their shells in an effort to come into this world. And their mother is happily setting in a nest of clean hay without a single contraction.

Before the eggs begin to hatch, you can hear the chicks peeping. By the time City Boy came home from work yesterday, they were going pretty good! When I got up this morning, there was one wet black chick. The last chick to hatch was a few hours ago. It's not looking promising for a 100% hatch rate, as we're not hearing peeping from any of the remaining eggs. But you can never tell.

Here's the thing I find interesting about this hatch; all of the eggs were blue. They all were layed by blue (black) hens. We've got three roosters; two of which are blue. So how many blue chicks have we got? Only half of what has hatched! Since I'm clueless on sexing chickens, I'll just have to wait for them to get a bit older before I can tell which ones are hens. I'll be keeping the blue hens to add to the flock and selling the lighter colored ones at the farmer's market. I know there were a couple of you interested in getting some chicks; there just aren't enough of them to keep themselves warm during shipping with this hatch. Perhaps a bit later, when the weather perks up a bit?

Now, Darling got some short videos, but will have to wait until tomorrow, along with the final head count!

River Glen hatchlings!

Little peeping fluffies have begun to invade the incubator. We started with 20 blue eggs. How many do you think will hatch? Leave your guess and may you'll win...

Meanwhile...

Back on the Farm...

I like chickens. They're fun to watch. They hunt and peck for bugs in the dirt, and scratch about in my garden creating a nice growing environment. They get down right silly about taking dust baths. But mostly I like them because they make me feel smart. Feeling smarter than a chicken may not be enough for some folks, but I'm quite content with it. While I like baths, I prefer mine in water with bubbles. And while an occasional bug may tickle my fancy, I much prefer owl barf, don't you?

River Glen Chickens

Early on in my blog, I posted about my chickens. They're not an official breed, but come from a closed flock that a friend has. She started with a few bantams, an Aracauna (they type that lays the blue eggs) and a Phoenix (long tailed.) She now has an eclectic little flock of small chickens in various colors. The 'blue', which really range from a smoke to black, tend to lay blue eggs. I took on some of her chickens last fall in hopes of further developing the blue chickens who lay blue eggs.

I must admit to not being a very diligent breeder. If I were, I'd have three or four pens of chickens, and I'd be rotating my two blue roos among my blue hens and tracking what the offspring looked like and what they layed. Instead, I've got all my chickens together, blue and pied, hens and roosters. A week before leaving on vacation, I collected all the blue eggs and placed them in the incubator. Since I've not got an automatic turner, the hatch rate will likely be low. But who knows? They're due to hatch on the 28th of this month.

Styrofoam incubator (without an automatic turner, sniff, whine.)

I've had a couple of inquiries regarding shipping hatching eggs or chicks. I hesitate to ship eggs, as I've had poor luck with purchasing eggs from other people and would hate to have that happen to one of you. I am, however, looking into shipping chicks. So if you're interested in raising some River Glen Blues, just let me know!

Upon returning from vacation I had an email from Margery saying another one of her ewes had lambed. This time it was a ram and a ewe. Part of our breeding contract was that I'd get a ewe lamb from her, and now I've got three to choose from. She's got one more ewe that may lamb this summer, but Darling and I already know which lamb we'd like. She looks like a little cow! Isn't she just the most adorable thing?

Baa Moo Ewe?

As for Darling's new critter...well...

This weekend was the youth fair, an event put on here in Whatcom County each spring. It's a short, sweet, two day event with tons of classes that the kids can choose from. They pretty much get submerged with tons of information regarding a project; anything from livestock (Darling did sheep her first couple of years) to clowning to chess. This year Darling took photography and stole my camera for the weekend. I felt naked!

The youth fair also has a live auction, and at that auction are things like pies (which sell for $100 each) and pigs. Can you guess which one we came home with? I swear, this is the world's ugliest pig! And you know the term 'squeal like a pig'? I can assure you that unless you've picked up a squealing pig, you have no clue what it means. None what so ever. I had pigs growing up, and until I picked up this pig to carry it out to the truck, I had no clue what a squealing pig sounded like.

This pig, which shall remain nameless (because we haven't come up with a good one yet), could be heard three counties away. I know, because we got calls about a potential murder at the fair grounds. People were calling 911 in Canada. You'd have thought I was skinning her alive for all the noise she made. Twelve hours later, and I'm only just now getting my hearing back.

One ugly pig. No spider is going to help this girl out!

Once home, it was time to unload The Screamer. City Boy hadn't been there when Darling and I picked her up the first time. Darling was hiding, all huddled with fingers in her ears, on the other side of the pick up. She was still suffering from Squeal Shock, which is similar to shell shock, only worse. CB couldn't figure out what her problem was. He also didn't know why I was so reluctant to climb into the back of the truck after The Screamer. He soon found out. I nudged the pig to get her to move. She grunted and clung to the bed of the truck. I pushed, I prodded, and finally she moved enough for me to get my hand under her belly. And that 's when it began all over again...

The volunteer fire department showed up about five minutes later, wondering if everyone was okay. Evidently a kind neighbor had called in, saying they were certain there was something wrong. A few minutes after that, the sheriff was there, wondering about our child who was now crouched down, shaking and sucking her thumb. "Pig...pig...pig..." was all that would come out of Darling's mouth. I had ringing in my ears, as the screaming from inside the truck canopy had echoed back and forth. City Boy had a dazed look on his face. Never in all his years had he experienced anything like The Screamer. Thankfully, the sheriff's officer had raised pigs while in FFA and it didn't take him long to figure out what the neighbor had heard. He smiled and gave a wave. I think he said something as his lips were moving, but I still couldn't hear anything.

Honestly? Even if a spider does write Some Pig in a nearby web, I'm going to be happy to eat The Screamer!

All the animals gathered to see what the commotion was about, as The Screamer goes straight to work tilling up the garden.