Our Sicilian Buttercup is the only chicken we have that lays white eggs, so it’s been pretty obvious that she hasn’t been laying all winter. She did some molting a couple weeks ago, so I guess she’s ready to start – we got our first white egg of the season today.

Better yet, she’s a fantastic poser:

I think it’s Turken’s turn to molt, now. I have read that they are supposed to molt in the fall, but my chickens are living life on the edge – breaking all the rules. Damn straight.

I visited Wilco the other day, talked to Jen (who does the chick ordering). I got a sneak peek at what they are expecting this year, and wow it’s going to be hard to not get more this year. I mean, I don’t need any more, but man. There were several types I’ve never heard of, but I guess that’s not too surprising considering how new I am to chickening.

I think that if I were to get any more, I’d pick a Dorking. I really like the looks of her.

But I have to keep telling myself: I will not get more chickens. I will not get more chickens. NO!

For the last few weeks, I’ve gotten only 2 brown eggs a day from my six girls. That means that the Aracauna’s weren’t laying at all – until this last weekend.

While I was gone chaperoning my daughter’s visit to a Kumo buddy, green eggs began appearing once more in my hen house. I still don’t know which of the brown-egg layers are laying, but now I can definitely say: Sicilian buttercup is not, turken is, now both Aracauna’s are. That leaves the barred rock and speckled sussex as wild cards.

Side note: Can’t not like chicken comics. I’ve tried, doesn’t work.

Due to the lack of exciting chicken news, I’ve decided to put up some links to some neat chicken hats.  This was inspired by a trip to The Mall yesterday, where we saw a chicken hat at the Elephant’s Trunk.

First, we have the World Famous Chicken Hat.  Says so right on the page.

Not bad, but not hardly a cold-weather headpiece, huh.

This looks a little warmer.   And, it’s the Best Little Chicken Hat on the Web. Again, it says so right on the page.

Super cute, covers the ears.  I like it.

Then there’s this.  The Clucker.

I just don’t know.  It looks like that man is enjoying his hat much more than is typically called for, and it sort of creeps me out.  Oh, and no ear flaps.  The legs don’t count.

For the party-chicken, there is the Oktoberfest Chicken Hat.

Another guy too happy with his chicken.  I’m not sure I approve of giving alcohol to chickens, I don’t believe they are of legal age!

Here, a nice homestyle hat – a Knit Chicken Ski Cap.

I gotta say, this is my favorite.  Not too flashy, not too childish, practical ear flaps and liner.  And tassels.  How can we not love tassels?

So, if anyone wants a holiday gift-giving idea for me, make it the tasseled chicken hat.

…that was my question.

Turns out, a lot of people have that same question, and as with armpits and bodily orifices, there are many differing opinions on the matter.

What I’ve done so far is this:  when I noticed the chickens huddling more to sleep, I put the brooder heat lamp outside the chicken door to the coop.  It shines some heat inside, some outside.  My logic (such as it is) is that they’re birds – birds have feathers and monster body heat.  But maybe just a little something near the feeder would be nice for them.

Then this morning, I get up and the water bucket thing is frozen solid, and it made me start googling again.  I found this thread on the BackYard Chicken forum, but like I said, it’s all opinion.

In the end, I’ll probably just end up leaving it as is.  I may move the light out a bit more, put the water bucket thing under it and see if that helps.  But if I block the light too much, where will the cats hang out??

As a side note, as I was googling for images of cold chickens, I came across this one:

Click it to see where it’s from – a coffee place in the San Joaquin Valley.  It sounds like a fantastic drink, and what a great name for it.  Makes me wish I lived anywhere near there.  Or at least could visit.

Since the last post, Oddball has gone to his new home. He stayed for a few weeks with a friend in Elmira, then a woman whose flock lost their rooster took him home. Now he’s got a flock of his own, and a wider range. Bonus: He now lives on Walton’s mountain. I think they should call him Odd-boy.

The hens, in the meantime, are doing great. They seem to be more relaxed and wander around more. A few of them duck and crouch when I reach for them, I’m told it’s because I now have rooster status. As my kid says, I’m one “sexy rooster”. Yay…?

I spent a “Girl’s day” with a friend of mine, same friend who housed Oddball for me. During that day, we took my cat to the Neuter Scooter to get her fixed, picked up some bottle calves, and built the main frame of my new chicken house.  A few days later, my mom came down with some tools and we added siding and a door for the nesting box.  Yeah…looks rough, needs a coat of paint and a bit of sealing in the corners, but my chickens seem to be happy with it.  They still have the house to run around in, but a safe place to go at night, now that it’s getting colder – and wetter.

The hope is that there will a dry weekend so my kid can paint it.  Not sure how likely that is, but I suppose the world won’t end if it doesn’t get done until spring.

The girls are laying pretty regularly, I can count on 5 eggs a day.  It’s nice to be able to give out a dozen eggs to people who are helping us out.  Since the jobless rate in our household has hit an all-time high, it’s a good feeling to know I can give back, at least a little.

I’ll have a later post on the eggs themselves – some of them have been pretty odd.  Googling “double yolk eggs” gets some really crazy stories, if you’re into that kind of thing.

So Oddball. My strange little rooster.

A couple weeks ago, he decided he didn’t like sleeping in the garage anymore, and started trying to stay out with the girls. I started letting him go to sleep out there, and bringing him in later. (was easier to catch him, anyway).

Now he’s arguing about that too. And yesterday he took a run at me – for what reason, I don’t know.

He was very sweet until recently, he’s smaller than he probably should be, and was sort of a “shoulder chicken”. But now, he’s kind of a butthead.

I’m considering that I may have to find him a new home. Which would suck. But maybe he’d be happier where he could crow at 5am like a “real” rooster. And I wouldn’t have to cover the chicken house overnight to keep him from waking up too early – it’s not fair to the girls, you know?

Ugh.

It looks like the Speckled Sussex is the egg-layer. She’s quite proud, as well. Today was the first time I’ve been around for the happy event, all the ladies were in a tizzy, hovering around her as she nestled into the little burrow the bunny made under the verbena.

I bought a second pet barn the other day, they were having a garage sale across the street and there it was…so I layered some hay in there and put one of Speckles’ eggs in there…hoping they’ll use it for nesting, the bunny hovel is going to get crowded otherwise.

Still looking for an equitable solution to Oddball. He really wants to stay out with the ladies, but I can’t let him wake the neighbors when the sun rises. I’ve been letting him bed down with them, then taking him to bed when I go to bed (around midnight) so at least he gets to cuddle up for a couple hours. Poor boy.

UPDATE! Egg #4 came an hour or so after this one. It’s from the Ameracauna this time, a nice wasabi-green egg. Very pretty.

After months of preparation and care, accompanied later by daily searches through the underbrush, we have an egg.

Not sure which chicken is the proud producer, but hopefully it’s a sign of more to come. I wonder, should I get a little “free range” stamp, since they’ve decided to lay under the verbena?

On the outskirts of a small city in Oregon, rampaging cannibal chickens are taking over a small yard.

The catalyst: a chicken corn dog.

Even this small flock of just seven birds can strip a corn dog of its sweet corny exterior in seconds, exposing the chickeny insides under the cruel efficiency of their beaks. Within minutes, there is nothing left but the bare wooden stick, a sad testament to what was once a chicken – just like them.