As the Coop Turns

Like sands through the hourglass, these are the chickens of our lives.

When we last left our saga, five chickens had joined the household. They were small and adorable. They pooped a lot and we had no idea if they were hens or roosters.

As weeks went by the chickens doubled, then tripled in size. All, that is, but one. Ginger, the beloved runt of the litter, never gained the size or strength of the rest of the brood. She was beloved by the children because she was the most accessible and loving, allowing them to pet her while she made crazy crowing noises.

But one fated day, Ginger started limping, and seemed to lack control of her extremities. The other chickens knocked her over and she couldn't get up. Things looked bad. The children were worried.

Removed from the coop, Ginger took a turn for the worse. After some research on the chicken version of WebMD, a diagnosis was guessed: Chicken Polio. Ginger was not long for the world. Goodbyes were said, and a dramatic conclusion to poor Ginger's life was avoided by allowing her to go "back to nature" (AKA becoming coyote bait) at our land.

Tears were shed by the children, and the small girl wondered if we could get a new Ginger. No, that was not to be. But can we just re-name one of the other chickens Ginger? Yes, sounds good.

Back at the coop, it was becoming clear that 50% of the flock were roosters.

No bueno. There can be no crowing in the neighborhood! Although we were personally sad to see them go because the roosters had the most spunk and were hilarious to watch when they run-waddled after whomever was getting them food or water, they had to find a new home. A quick Craigslist search found a man willing to take "unwanted farm animals," and he swooped through and took them off of our hands.

Meanwhile, a man in Terrell had some Rhode Island Red hens of approximately the same age as our Leghorn hens, and so two new hens joined the flock, securing our position as the Warner Brothers cartoon of the neighborhood:

These new chickens were a different breed, and ruffled the feathers of the Leghorns. While the Leghorn hens were true biddies -- lazy, nosy, and averse to change -- these Reds were athletic and graceful. They evaded capture by racing around the yard a full 30 minutes before we were able to finally get them in the coop. While the Leghorn hens struggle to get up the ramp into the coop (causing the ramp to buckle under their weight), the Reds fly effortlessly up to the coop door and stroll in.

Like true "mean girls," the Leghorns are nasty to the Reds. They give them the business whenever the Reds (now christened Ginger #3 and Polly) try to get water or food. When they stroll outside the coop the Reds take a wide berth around the Leghorns (now christened Nadine and Roxie).

See the Leghorns playing defense of the food and water?

Now that the coop is rooster-free, the food and water consumption has gone way down, and the poop production seems to have abated. (Typical males!) Life in the coop seems to be normalizing as a pecking order is established. It seems that if only in their minds the Leghorns will be at the top of the order, but all the Reds have to do is fly three feet to get out of their way. Ginger #3 and Polly seem to be growing and thriving, and successfully ignoring Nadine and Roxie.

The next chapter: egg production. When will it happen? Will the hens share the nesting boxes? Will the eggs be brown or white? Will they be possessive and broody hens, or will they let us take the eggs with no problems? I, for one, will not miss an episode.

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