bock, bock, bock

Folks, this post has been a long time in the making. And when I saw 'long time', I mean several years. I have seriously wanted to keep chickens for at least seven years, for a variety of reasons. I wanted the boys to be able to know the joy and responsibility of caring for animals that provide food that we eat every day. I wanted the funny companionship of these lovely creatures. I wanted to be able to feed them kitchen scraps and compost their poop to use it in the garden, making a nice tidy loop. And the eggs! We eat a lot of eggs, and fresh eggs are just the very best. We've been living in town, so I first decided to approach town council about amending the by-law prohibiting backyard hens back in 2010. That didn't go through, and since the spring of 2011, I've been patiently waiting. Reading every book I can get my hands on, visiting friends' hens, and daydreaming about collecting warm eggs. Waiting to find our forever home and property and have space to care for my very own hens and share the whole experience with the boys.

And so, I am so very pleased to report that I am now the proud owner of a flock of a dozen ISA Brown Layers. Allow me to introduce them, won't you?

First, the hens are a year old and already laying. I wanted some instant success and to avoid some of the chick intensity, and these ladies came up at just the right time. The previous owner was having some trouble with pecking in her flock (these twelve were in with many other chickens) and so they arrived here missing lots of feathers "on their butts", as Phillip likes to say. I lovingly refer to my tiny chicken operation as Sherrie's Chicken Rehab, as they appear to be a bit of a motley bunch. Apparently their feathers will take five or six weeks to grow back in, and I'm hoping that since they have some more space and lots of attention, they'll grow back beautifully. I don't know much about their past life, and I've only had them for a week, so I'm always observing them carefully for anything untoward, and I'm hoping that there aren't any underlying health issues with any of them.

They are so sweet and personable already! After a couple of days adjusting, they come trotting over when I arrive, looking for treats. Especially this beady-eyed beauty. She has been dubbed Jessica Fletcher. She's very much a busybody, and comes running as soon as I arrive. Unlike the others, she won't leave my side while I'm cleaning the coop, collecting eggs, and just having a little visit with the hens. She tilts her head from side to side to look me over, pecks at my toes, hands, pant legs, fingers, and waits patiently for me to feed her an extra little treat or two. She also solves murders in her spare time and is a wickedly accurate typist.

 You can see the bare butts above. I'm watching carefully for any signs of broken skin or any other complications.

 The coop was all set up by the previous owner. We gave it a very thorough cleaning, some fresh bedding, and these ladies settled right in. They really are a joy to hang out with, and they're good layers - we collect 8-10 eggs each day.

 This poor hen above seems to have lost the most feathers, and as she was grooming herself a bit, I caught this picture where you can see how bald her back end is.

 Thanks to my sister, who bought me these boots for Christmas last year. Jessica Fletcher really likes to peck at the left one in particular.

Back in 2010, I bought this ceramic egg holder, in full faith that I would have my very own hens' eggs to fill it with someday. I didn't think at the time that it would be four years down the road, but here we are, and it is so satisfying.

If you have chicken experience, please feel free to leave any comments with tips, hints, suggestions, etc. - I'm completely open to any and all advice!

midsummer

Hello, friends! I collected a few sprigs of lavender that I've been enjoying by the kitchen sink over the past few days, so I thought I would share it with you along with a little update of what's been taking place in my little corner of the world.

First, the bees are doing very, very well. Both hives are settling in nicely. We've been checking on them regularly, and have found both queens each time, saw eggs and larvae at different stages, scraped off a bit of extra comb and even had a few tiny tastes of honey! I am smitten. Adam really is in charge of the bee department, though - he has his beekeeper notebooks and makes the plans and does the research; I'm a more-than-willing participant.

I knew that it would be cool to have bees. I knew that I would be completely enthralled with them and have a sense of responsibility to my tens of thousands of fuzzy little wards. But what I didn't expect was how mindful I'm forced to be when doing the inspections. I can't be holding a frame of brood covered in hundreds of moving bees and looking for nearly-invisible eggs while checking texts or making a grocery list. The mindfulness is its own reward; the experience is such a fulfilling and pleasurable sensory experience that it would be a shame to be distracted. The hum of the bees working away at their tasks, the beauty of light reflecting on a nectar-filled cell, the stickiness of honey and wax covering fingertips, and of course the taste of honey are as rewarding as collecting a harvest from the vegetable garden. But my favourite is the scent - something elusive about the combination of warm moving bee bodies, smoke, honey, and wax is completely intoxicating. 

House news: we're still in our same lovely house, but just for a couple more weeks! We will be renting it out, have tenants lined up, and I'm optimistic that things will work out beautifully with this long and drawn out situation after all. We will be moving to our forever home and farm (farm! I feel like an imposter just typing the word) very, very soon. There are boxes and piles and lists everywhere, and we have some wonderful family who will be helping to look after the boys over the next few crazy weeks as we move. I am doing my best to relax into the whole situation and trust that everything will indeed get done, but the part of me that craves complete order before attempting a task is trying to resist a meltdown since the nature of moving house is such that it... well, it's chaotic and messy and everything that I don't do well with when I'm feeling stressed. Wish me luck and all of the patience, love, and kindness I can muster! It will all get done, and I will do my best to handle it gracefully.

Instead of thinking ahead, though, I want to savour the lovely times that I've already enjoyed over the past month. I've had several great visits with friends old and new, and that really is my favourite part of the summer. I really need that connection with people unrelated to my school-year work-life to make me feel like myself again. And there's nothing quite like a lovely chat with an old friend on a lazy summer afternoon. I've been lucky enough to enjoy several of those over the past few weeks, and I've tried my best to soak in every minute and save it somewhere in my mind for late November or mid-February when I miss it most.