I apologize for not updating sooner, since Monday we have had non-stop chaos. After finally getting all three girls in their roost for the night, the next day my husband came home and checked on them only to find that the Devil hen (also known as “Clever Girl” from Jurassic Park) had convinced the other two littler hens to peck out a hole in the plastic “chicken” fencing. Clearly, this fencing does not function as advertised. So, when Augustin went in to shoo them away from their newly created hole, the little grey hen jumped out through the barely opened door. Clever Girl watched the little grey hen leave through the front and initiate a chase of epic proportions by my Weimaraner, Finnegan. Clever Girl popped out the back hole with nary a “thank you for your sacrifice”, once again hiding in the thick brush behind our backyard. The poor little grey hen was not fast enough to outrun Finnegan, and was caught in his mouth. He didn’t crush her, but his bird-dog instincts had been triggered. Augustine had to break her neck to end her suffering. It was quick, and relatively painless.
I looked to my mother in askance, what should we do? After a moments deliberation the mutual decision to honor her death with a meal was agreed upon. Augustin went out to catch Clever Girl, and I started the butchering process. (Warning – from here on to the end of the paragraph is rather graphic.) I chopped off her head and hung her in a tree to bleed. It only takes about fifteen minutes to fully bleed a chicken for meat. Whilst she was being bled, my littlest sister, Laura, and I plucked her clean. She then helped me scald her to get the wing feathers out, and aided me in the entire butchering process. I followed this blog to go through the steps slowly, and I didn’t even break the intestines, cloaca, or the gall bladder. She was small, and dense compared to what we normally get from the store. After the butchering, my mum seasoned her and set her in the oven with some store-bought legs. Apparently, you are supposed to cook a fresh chicken much shorter than normal to prevent drying the meat out. We like to learn as we go. This little grey hen was delicious, but the slate grey skin colour bothered both my husband and my mother. I thought she was beautiful. Thank you, little grey hen, for your contribution to the family. I’m sorry that my dog got you so quickly.
My mother patched the hole and I caught the last hen, our golden girl, and placed her in the metal dog crate for the time being. We worked on cleaning the butchering area thoroughly, and then we heard a very laud “CAW!”. My eyes whipped up just in time to see C lever Girl half fly, half glide into the pool with my husband hot on her heels. She let out pitiful mewling clucks and bobbed up and down on the stairs. She couldn’t get out. Augustin pulled her soaking body out and held her close to his chest. He brought her up and placed her in with the golden girl. Then, we immediately looked up what to do if a hen falls in the pool. At least it’s happened to other people. Fortunately, the girls took it into their own hands and hid in a cardboard box we had put in with them and the golden girl had placed herself in the front to block out the air and warm Clever Girl up. What a day.
Tuesday was a day of much stress and frustration. We kept the girls in their crate whilst we built them a new, better run and a coop. I was called into work for a meeting with my boss, but that didn’t take too long. I ended up having to run a few calculations and then set up an Excel spreadsheet for comparisons. I arrived home around one, and found that not much had been set in regard to the run and coop. I grabbed Laura and put on my work outfit (a ratty pair of jean shorts and an old bikini top) to get started. My husband and his good friend Warren, came out to help us and did many manly things. After many hours of work, we still weren’t finished, but we had the run pretty much set and the coop had two walls, a frame, and a floor. We stopped once it started to really get dark out. The chickens were schedule to spend another night and day in the dog crate.
Today, Wednesday, I had made plans to pick up my breeding trio of American Chinchilla rabbits. My husband had work, so we arranged for Warren to come over again in the morning. My mother and I got started around eight-thirty, and used the jigsaw to cut out the nest box. My brother, Mark, was not pleased by the sound. He yelled and moaned and ordered us to move away from his window, or, barring that, stop making that racket. We, of course, ignored him and continued on our work until my mum reached a point of frustration and told him to quiet down or come out and help us. He quieted. Warren arrived around ten at which point we had some issues with our next box building. Laura and I had to head out, so we put together our things and grabbed three moving boxes and some towels and drove off to California. It was a very long drive, but we arrived in one piece. A new friend of mine via a Yahoo rabbit list has a farm out in California, and we were there to pick up our Chins. Her farm was amazing. She had a gorgeous slate blue tom with two young turkey-lings following him around. He was a very good mother. His last hen was eaten by something and left him with the babes, the one before that ran off for those manly wild turkeys. She had all sorts of chickens free ranging around her house, and three dairy goats, a barn full of many breeds of rabbits, and some sheep up the hill. It was splendid.
I ended up taking home a total of eight rabbits. Two were almost of breeding age female black New Zealand crosses, as the sex change fairy had visited and she only had a single young American Chinchilla doe. Three were almost of breeding age American Chinchilla bucks, and the last two were young Chin bucks, needing time to grow out. Wow. I thanked her profusely and we set out on our way home. A few hours later we introduced them to their new home, set them up in their cages (I need to build more), and feed, watered and let them relax. Finnegan was ecstatic. He loves rabbits. Mammals are his babies, birds his nemesis. This even we all relaxed, ate, and conversed for hours. Our work was done. Finnegan’s had just begun. He still is sitting guard out back watching over his new charges.