Agamenmon



"Aggie" as it turns out is not short for Agatha, but rather Agamenmon.
That's right, we have a rooster.

Of all the breeds of chicken we have, all can be sexed when hatched except the silkies. We got 2 silkies, knowing they could be roosters. For a long time we thought we were safe, but then one Sunday morning on the way to the coop, we heard that unmistakable sound resonate from inside the coop.

I actually really like it. Before when people referred to our place as a farm, I would roll my eyes and say, "it's not a farm... not yet anyway." Now, every morning when I hear Aggie crow, I feel pride vibrating inside me, and sometimes can't help but gleefully shout, "It's a farm!" The rooster makes it real to me.

At first I had declared that the day a rooster crowed in my coop, he would be that night's dinner. Roosters can be very mean... very, very mean. And I had images in my head of a rooster latching his spurs into Eden and attacking her. No way. I have no reservations about eating my own chickens. Even though we love our chickens as pets, I am very well grounded in knowing where my food comes from. But Aggie is one of our silkies, which is a bantam breed. Bantam in the language of crazy chicken people means small. He will never be big enough to be very dangerous. And, wouldn't it be a great learning experience for my kids to see eggs hatch?

Speaking of crazy chicken people... for a while now I've been inwardly pining for some Ameraucanas. Ameraucanas are a type of chicken that lay blue/green eggs. They also have tufty feather beards, are sweet tempered and cold hardy. But they are hard to come by. I've been looking for them for a while, but refuse to pay $40 shipping for a couple of chicks. Well, finally I got wind of a way I could get some Ameraucanas locally. A friend of Alex's from work, a fellow crazy chicken man, was getting some and would be willing to drop them off at our rental house in Oregon on his way from Genoa to Michigan. So I dropped off a dog crate at the house, then took Micah to tee ball, and came back to find 2 adorable chickens on my porch.

I put the dog crate in my car and instantly realized my lack of wisdom in not putting any wood shavings at the bottom of the crate. Now despite what people may tell you, chicken coops are not smelly. However, chickens in a car, with nothing to absorb their excrement, are UNBEARABLE! So, I stopped at my parents house on my way home to give the kids and myself a break from the stench.

My poor father. If you read my earlier posts, you know he is not a fan of chickens... or country living, or anything that involves getting dirty for that matter. I have often thought of devoting a whole blog to the alarm I cause him, entitled "My Poor Father." I'm sure my walking in and proudly announcing, "I've got more chickens! IN MY CAR! Wanna see?," must have caused one of those alarming twinges that must be responsible for many gray hairs.

However, I am very joyful that I have my Ameraucanas now. They are my special babies, Stella and Amelia Bedelia.



Introducing new chickens into the coop is difficult. Chickens are mean. They haze newcomers mercilessly, to make sure they know they are at the bottom of the pecking order. And they call it pecking order, because the big chickens peck the little ones. They are unrelenting. Poor Stella was kept running the entire first day. I was afraid they were going to chase her until her heart gave out. The laced Polish chickens, who had been at the bottom of the pecking order, welcomed the newcomers very nicely into their little clique. And after a couple days, everyone settled down, and they all get along peacefully now.

And speaking of the lace Polish, those are Alex's special chickens, and quite a sight they are! They have feathery headdresses that bob around when they walk. They are absolutely ridiculous.



In honor of our ridiculous chickens (if anyone is keeping count, we now have 19 chickens of 7 different breeds), I painted the coop a bright turquoise. As Alex said, "It screams, 'A fuzzy headed rooster lives here.'" Alex also built nesting boxes this week, and we are expecting our first egg any day now.

One last story for this post. I made an interesting discovery this week, and that is that I can fit through my chicken's little pop door. Micah and Alex were away, and Eden and I went out to feed the chickens while Declan was in the house napping. As I was messing with the chicken's water fount, I heard the click of the latch. "NOOOoooooo..." but it was too late. I had been locked in before, but there was always someone around to let me out. And putting a wire through to the inside for lifting the latch was on our list of things to do, just not high enough on the list. Securing the coop from predators was, though, so there was only one way out. And sending Eden out the pop door was not an option, because she would not be able to reach the gate to get out of the chicken run outside. And waiting was not an option, because Declan was in the house. So, squeezing through the tiny, poop-encrusted door was what had to be done. It is at moments like that, that I am glad I do not have any near neighbors watching.


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