Historic Chicken Breeds

Right, so I thought I'd share some of the interesting information I've dug up recently on chicken breeds and just where they came from. Many of these pics are borrowed from www.feathersite.com which is a great resource on chicken information.

All domestic chickens are descended from the Asian Red Junglefowl. It's scientific classification is Gallus gallus, and it has been genetically proven as the original species in the Gallus genus. Gotta love modern science backing up what breeders had been trying to prove for centuries. Now, in all fairness, the Grey Junglefowl was in an overlapping territory in the Indian Peninsula at the same time in history, and many modern breeds carry that genetic mix as well, however the first artwork and records from a couple thousand years ago indicate that it was the Reds that were originally kept domestically in Asia for both meat and eggs. Chicken breeding, you will see, has many Asian roots, and some of the most popular variations and specialized breeds started over there. Notice how this wild Junglefowl looks like a cross between Chanticleer and a pheasant! For whatever reason, this original Asian bird had tail feathers that didn't molt out, but got long and dangly. The hens have almost no waddle or comb.

Domesticated fowl from Asia and India began being imported to Greece by 500BC, according to Wiki's article. Chickens are, by nature, quite loyal to whoever feeds them, and wherever the good shelter is, so they would have been an easy animal for small crofters to keep.

Today, the Red Junglefowl is a closely watched breed, having nearly gone extinct, but they really are best left in the wild, as they do not domesticate well! A single person can train them to accept food from them, and they will get used to their presence, but strangers put them in a total panic. It does beg the question of who was patient and foresighted enough to breed generations of these birds to breed out the "crazy-wild-thing" attitude? Probably some ancient Asian farmer befriended some, or raised peeps he stole from a hen, and voila! Fried chicken was born!

Zoos have had many failed attempts at displaying Junglefowl because they are just SO flighty and wild. Recently the originals have been deliberately crossed with modern bantams to get a friendlier bird that still looks the same. Now, the closest breeds to the originals (in appearance) that are commonly found today are the Phoenix, and the Yokohama.

Here is a modern domesticated Red Jungleflowl, this picture was taken of one in Laos. You can be sure this is a hybridized bird, however, there is a lot of resemblance, dark legs, long tail feathers, distinct coloration.

Here is a modern Silver Phoenix hen. This one is mine, her name is Wild Thing. Body shape and patterning is the same as the Junglefowl of old, merely a more pale color set.

 Here is a Silver Phoenix cockerel, check out the fancy tail! The gene for the non-shedding tail feathers can be deliberately perpetuated, obviously.

And then we have the Japanese Yokohama chickens. There is not a Yokohama breed in Japan, that was simply the name the American breeder gave his line of birds that had been shipped to him from the port of Yokohama, Japan. These birds have the pea-comb, rather than the more game-cock style comb. This boy is the Blue and Red variety. Grey chest and underfeathers, gold hackles and red saddle.

So, that leads me up to some recent acquisitions, my pair of Blue and Red Phoenix/Yokohama crossed birds. They do have the pea-combs, rather than the tall comb on the original reds, but their color is lovely!

They are relatively easy to handle, and have a lot of the lanky body type of the original Junglefowl and hold their tails the same way. They also have dark legs, gold hackles, and a red saddle. The female looks just like Wild Thing did as a pullet but with gold in substitute of her silver.

The Asians have had a love of showing off their birds for thousands of years, and have been breeding for specific attributes since the first Junglefowl was kept in a cage. Then at some point, someone got a genetic mutation where the binding between the hairs on the feather shaft no longer made a solid feather.
And the Silkie chicken was created!

Marco Polo described the very unusual Asian chicken in 1298 as having "hair like a cat, and black skin"...not that you can SEE the skin on this bird!

You can actually get spontaneous Silkie feathering on just about any breed of bantam if you do too much straight line breeding (deliberate inbreeding for a specific trait). Weird, huh? Well, the Silkies left their genetics behind when cross bred throughout Europe in the middle ages for small, cute, and easy to handle chickens. In colonial times, it was considered a status symbol to have Silkies loose in your yard as it implied you could afford to have expensive, and purely ornamental imported birds. Silkies are passable seasonal layers, but their best trait if you are a breeder is that they are very broody in general, and will happily sit on, and hatch out eggs belonging to any sort of bird. They are known for being very tame, and are usually quite happy to be held or sit in your lap for hours on end.

These cute powder-puff chickens come in many colors, primarily hues in the black to white range, as well as buff. A few clever folks have bred Partridge colored silkies (brown and gold mottled) and a few other varieties, but the vast majority are white, silver, blue, splash (grey with darker mottling), black, and buff.

Here is a silver splash baby:

I have decided to name that one Lint. She has siblings I have been calling Pouf and Fluff, but perhaps better names will surface for them.

Next time on Historical Chicken Breeds will be the Marans, and the d'Anvers (both French breeds).

I haven't done an egg count yet for today, but yesterday was 7 (3 of which were blue, my young Americaunas are getting more consistent, yay!), and the day before that was 12.

Today's Egg Count: A Baker's Dozen

I was a little surprised today that despite the dreary 50 degree high and drizzle, the girls gave me 13 eggs!

The brown ones with the white speckles are from the Barred Rock hens, the blue one is from my older Americauna, the small cream colored one is from my Phoenix hen, and the other two pale ones are possibly from my Silver Laced Wyandotte and a young Americauna. The regular brown ones are from the Red Sexlink hens, who are fabulous producers, I'm very proud of those little ladies!

To be fair, the Partridge Rock hen tried to keep 4 of them. She is possibly the most broody hen I've ever had. She has claimed one of the laying boxes, and sits in it all day, except if she gets up to eat or drink, and another hen lays in "her" box, then she plops herself down and claims it for her own the moment she gets back in. I really need a name for her, any suggestions would be welcome. Isn't she lovely?

She's a pretty girl, with beautifully detailed, buttery soft feathers, but she makes the most evil squawk when you approach HER box! So far, she doesn't peck when you take her eggs. I shouldn't feel guilty taking her eggs, but when a hen is so determined to be a momma, I admit that I am always tempted to just let her keep them. I know, I'm a sucker. I believe I've mentioned that before.

The current plan is to collect some Americauna eggs and put them in a nice fluffy nest in one of our chicken apartments for her to sit on. She can be my auto-temp, auto-turning incubator since she's obviously not picky about just whose eggs they are. I am tempted to confine a couple of my banty pairs later this summer and try the same routine if it works. If she wants the job so badly, who am I to deny her? As long as we don't end up with some freaky chicken version of that Rebecca deMournay movie... Once they hatch and survive a week or so, they're mine, tough noogies, momma.

My exciting news is that tomorrow morning there is a chicken swap near my house, which I will certainly be attending, and after I go by there to see what's available, I'll be heading out to Amelia to buy my first pair of Maran chickens! These are Blue Birchin Marans, and they lay super dark brown/reddish eggs, like almost milk chocolate color. I'm excited to add to the color variety in my egg boxes, and I'd love to perpetuate some of these lovelies since they're fairly uncommon. The guy also has Lavender Orpingtons, and some Black Americaunas! I can't wait to see this farm, it sounds like they've got some fabulous chickens, unusual breeds, and the Americaunas I got from him last year are all thriving, which is a good sign!

Little Mr. Fluffy Pants

This is sure to be the first of many tales of Mr. Fluffy Pants' exploits. He is one of the leading characters on our farm, despite being one of the smallest ones.

Mr. Fluffy Pants is a Silver Laced Cochin Bantam with heavily feathered legs and feet. A fairly snazzy little fella, he has many of the attributes of your typical "short man" and he is as bold as the Chihuahua that stands up to the Great Dane, and as brainless. He is, however, exceptionally loyal to me. He is firmly convinced that I am the love of his life, and that I must surely return this affection. No chore can possibly be done on this farm without his supervision, and he expects his comments to be respected, and regular attention and treats to be awarded. He keeps up a non-stop stream of chattering bok-bok-boking when being my shadow, and gets jealous and butts in when I'm patting the barn kitties.

I should mention that his first object of amorous attention was a pretty little mallard duck... He was quite sure that species differences could be overcome by true love. The duck, however, declared that she'd never been so insulted in her life, and proceeded to begin a daily exercise in futility, much like Pepi LePeu and the kitty he loved. The duck quacks in his face, occasionally emphasizing a point in her diatribe with a jab in his chest with her beak. I will do my best to get a video of this, the duck still gives him hell every time he is near her pen, it really is like watching a cartoon, you can literally understand her telling him off, while he stands there looking nonplussed.

So, now that he can no longer be with the duck of his dreams, he has taken to following me all over the farm. He follows my husband too, but is fairly likely to peck him when offered attention, hubby ignores that and picks him up to pat his soft feathers anyway. Clearly he senses who his main competition is. I admit, I am moved by this little rooster's obvious displays of adoration, I mean, what girl wouldn't be?? When I go to the studio over the garage to work on my computer, he likes to stand outside the window and crow to me, over, and over, and over... no joke, he often serenades me for 10 minutes, longer if he can actually see me through the window.

The other night, the high winds blew the studio door open and early in the morning Mr. Fluffy Pants decided to investigate what was up there, probably looking for me. My husband came up to start work for the morning and found the little twerp making himself at home upstairs, and indignant to be evicted. Perhaps he was planning to start writing his own blog. It wouldn't surprise me.

This little guy is the lone bantam in a yard full of big beefy roos, he is less than half the height of most of the other boys, yet he has them buffaloed. Clearly, size doesn't matter after all. Or so he keeps telling me. He chased Sir Lancelot all the way across the barnyard this afternoon, and I was reminded that he is a fast little bugger! Jumped right through the fence like a steeplechaser, fast and clean, no wasted air time. Lancelot was looking more like Robin just then.

Today's egg count: only 6, but considering that yesterday we got 15 I am not surprised. Many of my layers are in their first year of laying, so they won't produce an egg every day for a few more months.

The last several days before that have been in the 7-9 range....anyone need some eggs? Time to post on Craig's List I think! I've got 7 dozen here from the last 10 days. That's a lot of omelets.

Peeps

Fair warning, this is a bit longer than my usual post!

I remember how excited I used to be when the Sears Christmas catalog arrived, how I would get a marker and circle all the zillions of toys that I had not a prayer of getting, but had to put on my list anyway. It was the mail highlight of my year, until I was about 8 or 9, and the Murray McMurray catalog started coming! I would sit and pour over the pages of that colorful publication for hours, and circled nearly every listing in hopes of one day ordering peeps.

For those unfamiliar with the way hatcheries work, you can order on the phone or online, and they line up eggs in incubators (the big hatcheries already know how many they'll hatch out of every breed for each week) and as soon as the chicks hatch, they are put in a special shipping box and put in the mail.

Yes. The Mail, as in USPS.

As far as I know, USPS is still the only carrier willing to transport live creatures like peeps and honey bees. I have heard horror stories of the 2 being in a mail truck wreck, so I don't really blame FedEx and UPS for drawing the line. They get sent via an express service that is faster than Priority, but not like the express next-day service you can buy either. Peeps hatch having just finished absorbing the proteins in the egg, from which they have about 3 days worth of survival without additional food or water, assuming they are kept in an ideal temperature. 

I know there were many times that my mother's loose barn hens put this to the test by hatching out chicks in the hayloft. They sometimes were in such a hidden nook, that it was a couple days before we realized we were hearing peeping from *somewhere*. When we finally moved enough tack trunks and hay bales to find them, we always put momma hen and her babies in a horse water bucket, and lowered it down carefully so that they could forage in the barnyard without having to make a 15 foot leap down first. Finding pancake-peeps in the aisle was not my favorite thing, and yes, it did happen now and then when we didn't hear them before they started exploring the hayloft.

The biggest difference in what mom's hens did, and what the hatcheries do, is temperature. Mail trucks are not climate controlled, and in the summer they get VERY hot. Likewise, in the spring and fall (hatcheries don't ship after September or before March usually) the trucks can get pretty darned chilly. Then there's all the waiting around in sorting facilities and post offices. I cannot tell you how many people I've heard say that most of the peeps were dead on arrival because it was summer, and the postal clerk felt sorry for them being in the hot trucks so they put them by the air conditioning.

This just goes to show you how well the average mail clerk can read. The shipping boxes all have temperature warnings printed on them. Big, bold, bright colored lettering...

Heat they handle pretty well, cold, not at all! So, hot weather travel means they need to arrive within 2 days and get water right away, with some honey added to help pep them up from the draining heat. Cold travel means all the smaller ones will die before 2 or 3 days are over, they simply can't handle being at less than 65 degrees for more than a few hours without losing too much body heat.

So, back to when I was a kid, and ignorant of the details. All I knew is that I had about $100 saved up of egg money, and I had a McMurray catalog *you have to envision me rubbing my hands with greedy excitement here*

I remember my first peep order was a total of $72, which was HUGE to me then. I got about half laying breeds, and about half bantams, just for fun. Of the 50 chicks I ordered (the minimum that McMurray will ship, so they stay warm together in transit) there were one of this, 2 of those, one of that... I'm sure the unfortunate employee who had to fill my order got their exercise running all over the hatchery for the 20-something breeds I wanted! And as I have found is common with McMurray, they tossed in several extras, probably because they could tell it was a child's order, from the dreadful handwriting on the order form (yes, as in, mail in, this was in the 1980's, the dark-ages-before-internet).

The best part of getting peeps in the mail is the phone call from the PO, it is usually tough to hear the postal clerk over the raucous peeping, but the background noise certainly gives away the reason they're calling! Of the 56 or so they shipped I believe every single one of them survived, and made it to adulthood, much to my father's dismay. I am positive he was hoping a certain amount of attrition would keep him from having to build more chicken yards!

These peeps grew up spoiled, constantly handled, and healthy despite all my annoying attention. Of that first batch we had several that ended up living more than 10 years, which is rare, and all the fancy ones were lovely examples of their breed. I recall only one chicken who was a little odd. Her name was Mrs Buffy. She was a Buff Bramah Bantam, and she both laid eggs, and crowed....... a very gender confused chicken. That was the only one that mom would raise an eyebrow to and grumble about inbreeding.

I perpetuated my own peeps for a while after that, using an incubator from my Aunt's classroom. I only did a handful a year so my dad wouldn't run away from home, since we were up to about 100 chickens at this point! I feel I should mention that nearly half were actually just the loose barn chickens of random cross breeding.

Well, I just HAD to do another McMurray order after meeting the most huge and handsome rooster I'd ever seen in my life, at Chatsworth house in Devonshire. This enormous buff rooster was taller than my knees, and was wandering loose with a few friends in the fancy manicured gardens of the Duke of Devonshire's abode. I offered him the crust of my awful sandwich (you have to go to england to see how such simple foods can manage to be inedible, yet cost a fortune) and he ignored that and stole the whole rest of my sandwich out of my other hand! I was in love.

Upon returning home, I grabbed my McMurray catalog and decided he was a Buff Cochin. So I had to order another 50 peeps just to get this guy! He really was just THAT cool. 4 ducks and 40-something chicks later, I had my boy! Easily twice the size of the other peeps, the puffy beige peep was immediately king of the coop. Sadly, 6 or 8 of this batch was DOA.

This 1993ish order was not quite up to the quality of the ones from 7 or so years before. They didn't live as long, their feather patterns weren't quite as text-book perfect, and they weren't as easily tamed. Signs of inbreeding.

It was about 12 years later that I did another order from McMurray.

To start with, my order of 50 peeps, 8 ducks, 4 geese, was up to a staggering $240, and upon arrival, one third of the order was DOA. In June. I don't know what the mail people did to that box, but another third was dead before 24hrs had gone by. I was devastated. All those tiny dead bodies was a heart-breaking thing to see, and I stayed up all night doctoring the survivors, dosing them hourly with warm water and honey. The people at the hatchery were very nice about it and said they'd send me replacements as soon as they were ready, but we were going on vacation, and I just couldn't have brand new peeps for a house-sitter to deal with. So, my handful of chickens didn't have any more company for a year.

The replacement order I got the next year was nearly as bad. Almost half of those died, either on arrival or shortly thereafter, despite my having them go to the city post office, rather than the local one. I had figured one less day in transit would make the difference. Apparently not.

At this point, I had already had several of my McMurray chickens die of unknown causes. There were ones still at my mom's farm that outlived the new ones I'd ordered! I became rather upset with the new McMurray chickens, many of which were flighty, unmanagable hens who loved to eat eachother's eggs. Very few had decent feather patterns, and I had 3 die of eggbinding in their first laying season. That is pretty unusual.

So I googled Hatcheries, and came up with Cackle Hatchery. Tons of fun breeds, 4-H specials, and they'll ship a minimum of 25 peeps. Near enough to have safe shipping time, but they didn't send to VA because of a test that VA requires that no other state asks for. Figures. Fortunately, they were happy to ship to the nearest WVA post office! Score!

I am pleased to say that only one peep was DOA from Cackle. It was a bantam, and had been trampled by the big cochin peeps in it's section of the box. The post master at the WVA office was happy to hold them a couple hours while I drove out to get them, and he even kept them in a warm place. The chicks nearly all grew up to adulthood. Good thing too, since by this time, many of my McMurray hens had bitten the dust. I still have a good number of the Cackle chickens we got, although the winter before this one we lost a huge part of our flock to the horrible winter blizzards, and the attack-goat (again, a tale for another day).

I have recently learned that the McMurray hatchery had to put down the majority of it's breeding flock just after I did my orders, due to an avian flu breakout. I can't help but think that those chickens had been inbred to the point that they were probably susceptible to nearly every avian ailment out there. The quality just didn't compare to the birds of a decade before.

For now, I will continue to try and acquire my chickens locally. I have recently found a web forum for VA chicken fanatics, and craigs list has been pretty great for finding local peeps as well. I know that Tractor Supply Co. gets its' peeps from MtHealthy hatchery, and I get pretty healthy chicks from them, but I am sick and tired of getting boys out of bins marked as being pullets! With local breeders, you can pick through peeps that are about 10 weeks old, at that age you can start feeling spur nubs, so you'll know if you're getting boys or girls.

This spring, my only peeps so far are the 3 silkies I picked up at a chicken swap in Orange, from a lovely local farm. It's been years since I had one. They are healthy, friendly, and awfully cute! And hey, I had silkies WAY before Tori Spelling had hers... humph. She's such a wanna-be...

Dust Bath Day

I know a lot of non-farm people wrinkle their noses and say "chickens are just dirty, smelly animals". They get this mistaken impression from the smells of the tyson farms and such as they drive through the countryside. No doubt, those are smelly, so I can only assume they are dirty. I know the commercial chickens I see bouncing down the highway are a bit manky-looking. But in all fairness, cleanliness wasn't exactly bred into them, they end up on a rotisserie before they'd ever get a skin disease from lack of preening.

In general, most of the chickens I've had have been very fastidious. They preen their feathers constantly, removing bits of feather shaft, loose down, and the occasional molted feather. When they all get to preening it's a veritable dust storm of pale downy feathers and feather dander! Now, they may make a bit of a mess doing this, but the first breeze will carry it all away, and they are left shiny and soft, with nary a feather out of place. They detest mud, and being wet (madder than a wet hen, like silly geese, the saying began for a reason!) and they keep their feet and toenails well tended. Yes, they poop whenever they feel like it, but you'd only notice it with caged chickens or for loose ones just under a favorite night perch. My African Grey parrot makes just as much of that sort of mess, yet she's considered a fancy, elitist sort of pet. Nobody mentions her mess or smell when they hear I have a parrot in my house. Double standard, anyone? As with any house pet, frequent cleaning makes it a non-issue.

The only time I am likely to agree with the city-folk opinion of chickens, is when I open the hen yard and have to step OVER the sprawled, dust-bathing hens. They're digging up the entire entry side of the hen yard, which had previously been nicely covered in straw. They're flopped on their sides, feet waving in the air as they roll around in the dirt. They look like they've all got some rare neurological disease and are dying all over the floor, having seizures while they're at it. I should mention that when this weird act is going on, the little dwarf goat hops up on her perch (a big wooden phone cable spool) and just watches the mayhem. Perhaps she thinks bowling for chickens is no fun when they're already splat on the floor? (I'll save the Petal stories for another time, suffice it to say that bowling for chickens is her favorite sport...)

Anyway, they are so determined to get as dusty as possible, that I literally have to hop over little knots of writhing hens to go check the laying boxes for eggs, since they refuse to move when I loom over them. Clearly they are not intimidated, and in fact they stop their fluffing only long enough to glare at me for blocking the lovely patch of sunshine on my way by. Well. Excuse me!

There is actually a good reason for all this dust bathing. They manage to keep from getting mites and other nasties on their skin by dusting themselves every so often, and then shaking like a wet dog, followed by a thorough preening. I guess maybe they asphyxiate the parasites with all that dust, but however it works, I acknowledge that it is a necessary thing. Now if only I could get them to put the yard to rights when they're done!

Today's Egg Count: 6

the cloudy cold morning followed by blustery hot afternoon put the girls off their game, hopefully none will get sick...

Bravely, bold Sir Robin, bravely ran away, away!

Well, I didn't think there would be anything of interest to write about today, but my chickens proved me wrong.

Yes, it would appear that I am the not-too-proud owner of Sir Robin's mascot. 

Who is Sir Robin, you say? Well, if you don't know, you really ought to watch Monty Python's Quest for the Holy Grail. Everyone should be subjected to this film at some point in their life, it's full of memorable moments like the unstoppable killer attack bunny, and lots of catchy tunes (most of which your kids really shouldn't hear...).

One such catchy tune is delivered by a group of annoying minstrels (who later get eaten, yeah!) who sing a disturbing song which regales the frequent lack of heroics by Sir Robin. 

"When danger reared it's ugly head, he bravely turned his tail and fled, 

Yes, brave Sir Robin turned about, and gallantly he chickened out,

Bravely taking to his feet, he beat a very brave retreat,

Bravest of the braaaaave! Sir Robin!"

This knight's device on his shield shows a lovely rooster, which was apparently painted the wrong color, since I can assure you it should have been red!

Little did I realize, Sir Robin's rooster has been hiding in the stall that our little Dartmoor pony really wishes she had to herself. He perches either on Wheelie, or wherever else he can manage to escape the notice of the other roosters. 

I didn't realize just how "chicken" a chicken he was until this morning when I left Wheelie's door open after letting her out to graze. This rooster slunk out of the stall, hugging the wall, then snuck through the shed next-door, and tiptoed over to the other barn, all the while exuding a jedi-strength suggestion that he was "not the chicken you're looking for...".

I thought this behavior was a little uncalled for since he is a pretty good sized Rhode Island Red rooster, allbeit a tatty looking one, but still, what was he so afraid of?

After Robin snuck into Nora's stall to see if she left any breakfast tidbits behind, Bubba, the nosy black rooster sauntered over and poked his head in to see if Robin had found anything of interest. I heard a terrified squawk, and Robin burst out of the stall, and ran away! Bubba just watched him run off, a bit startled at the rude greeting he'd gotten. I followed to see where Robin had gone to find that the poor idiot was doing this:

I kid you not, this rooster is in dire need of some self-help lectures. 

You would think he'd been the subject of years of schoolyard bullying with that reaction, but I've actually never seen him get his tail handed to him by the other boys. Go figure.

It's ok to point and laugh, he can't possibly lose any more self-esteem at this point.

It will take a far more skilled counselor than I to find out just why he lost his cocky groove. For now, I hope Wheelie continues to let him hide in her secret clubhouse.

On a side note, he and his brothers are the reason you shouldn't trust the signs on the big tubs full of adorable peeps at the Tractor Supply Co. store. We thought we were buying Rhode Island Pullets (meaning GIRLS) at the TSC a couple years ago. That is, after all, what the sign said. And they were more expensive than the straight run (not gender sorted) peeps, of course. But it became obvious that they'd been mislabeled when they started growing spurs and long dark tail feathers... Lesson learned.

Today's Egg Count: 7 so far, it was gloomy all morning but the sun has come out and it's getting warm, so there will probably be a few more before dark.

Soggy Saturday

So, it was dreary and only got up to the mid 50's and it was mizzling as my mother calls it. Sounds a little like something a puppy shouldn't do in the house, doesn't it?

Any day that you'd rather stay in your pj's and watch movies, well, the critters on the farm have the same inclination. When it's dreary and cool, the horses happily doze in their stalls. Well, other than Tug and Rosie, who have to learn to love a soggy spring day, because Tug jumps out of all the stalls and Rosie has kittens if she's not joined at his hip (I'm sure there will be several Tug stories another day). The dogs had to be forcibly kicked out the back door (we wouldn't want any indoor "mizzling"), and the chickens mostly sit on perches all day, apparently catching up on days of backlogged preening and hen gossip.

"Did you see that egg she laid? ugh. The color was SO last year..."

The only animals on the farm who are ecstatic about this weather are the ducks and geese! They play in mud puddles, splashing like a toddler that got out of mom's reach, and generally have enough fun to cover for all the other animals.

The day started off with a bit of a downer, as Carl found Big Mac dead in his apartment. Big Mac was a Partridge Cochin rooster, who unfortunately ended up looking like a feathered basketball. He was not named for the sandwich, but because he was the bigger version of the bantam Partridge Cochin that the kids named Mac. Of course, the name ended up being rather prophetic, since he had become shockingly fat (for a chicken).

It was bad enough that he pounced on the laying mash the hens need to lay eggs with good nutritional value, snarfing it so fast that he would choke, hardly letting them get any, but then we caught him eating said eggs...

This is an unforgivable offense around these parts, with a penalty of permanent exile to the back yard with all the other miscreants. 

Big Mac was doing an admirable job at losing weight, running far more than I ever do, eating fresh (...whatever it is they pick at in the yard,  I don't want to know) but he started a fight with one of the linebackers dressed as a rooster that we have here. So, a few days ago I rescued him from imminent demise, and chucked him into one of the newly constructed chicken apartments while I tried to figure out what to do with him. He was 6 years old, originally from McMurray hatchery, and he had a heart attack last night at some point. I can only assume that obesity and age put together were more than his inbred heart could handle. (I'll go into the vast problems with the chickens I've had from McMurray on another day)

So, RIP Big Mac, if there's a heaven for chickens, yours will have lots of buxom hens and all the laying mash you can choke down.

Today's Egg Count: 7

that's a slow day for eggs around here, I can only assume that 2 gloomy days in a row left the girls uninspired...