Who's Smarter? Me or the Fox?

We've had chickens for 20 years, and until this year, had few problems with predators.

The husband would credit Llambert, the now deceased llama, for keeping them at bay.

I always thought that nothing would come near where the Border collies tread.

This summer, though, a red fox got into our chickens one night.

And, then she came back during daylight hours and snagged a hen. I know, because I saw her.

So, I locked up the pullets in the pullet house and the four remaining hens in the hen house, and pondered how to allow my chickens to roam outdoors while still protecting them from the fox.

While I was researching electric poultry net, a friend told me of another threat: she saw a red-tailed hawk swoop into the horse paddock and carry off a pigeon.

So, I pondered and researched and pondered some more.

In an ideal world, the hens would roam the pastures, ride the occasional sheep, and generally be everywhere. But leaving them roaming now means they'll be picked off by predators.

So, I spent the past weekend building the chicken fortress: an enclosed coop and yard, surrounded by electric poultry netting.

I'm almost certain I'll get shocked on a daily basis. Will it keep the fox out and the hawk at bay?

Time will tell.

There's Always That One

The pullet flock was happy to go outside this week.

The 8-week-old pullets are too big to confine in their pullet house, and too small to free range with the six adult hens.

So, my solution was, as it frequently is, to add more fencing.

Knowing they will be adult size in a few months, I went for the quick method, building a temporary fence around their pullet house. It allowed them to go outside, but kept the adult hens out.

Experience has taught me that not all my solutions are brilliant, and not all work. Erring on the side of caution, I kept the adult hens confined to the hen house on Wednesday and then let the pullets outside.

By day's end, three pullets were too chicken to go outside; five were enjoying their new digs; and five had proven that they were like mice, and able to squeeze through my fence.

I spent the evening catching pullets, and the following day planning for a grander temporary fence.

On Friday, I made a second attempt at pullet confinement. After completing the fence, I let the pullets outside. Within minutes all were outside, scratching for bugs and plucking weeds. At day's end, 12 pullets returned to their house and roosted.

And then there was this one, a Cuckoo Maran, who was in the sheep pasture, cooing, "Don't fence me in."

I wasn't going to argue with her.

Chicken, anyone?

I took a moment to admire the flock of 14-week-old chickens the other day.

The cockerels are growing black, iridescent tail feathers; their gold-mahogany neck feathers shimmer in the sunlight.

That's going to be a handsome rooster, I think as I look at one.

And that's going to be another handsome one.

And there's another good-looking one.... and another ... and another.

I take a moment to count the cockerels. Eleven cockerels. Six pullets.

Rarely do we have a 50-50 ratio of males to females. This year we have lots more cockerels than pullets, and more ewe lambs than ram lambs.

In the fall, after selecting two cockerels to keep, we'll be eating a lot of chicken.

Chicken Chasing on a Friday Night

When I removed eight of the ten cockerels from the flock, I thought the seven pullets would be happy. The hen house had become more of a frat house with all of the crowing and chest bumping.

Instead, the pullets and remaining two cockerels boycotted going into the chicken house at night.

So, instead of the 15-second chore of closing the hen house, I had a 15-minute chore of catching seven pullets and two cockerels and putting them in the hen house.

"Let me know and I'll help," the husband says after I come inside the house after Night Two of chicken chasing.

I take him up on Night Three, which happens to be after we return from a Friday night out.

My husband is a flashlight man (the subject of a future blog), while I'm more of a feel-my-way-in-the-dark type of gal. So, we have two people and a flashlight trying to catch nine chickens... who are no longer docile and sleeping.

At one point, after being blinded by a flashlight, and regaining my vision in time to see a hen racing past, I burst out laughing.

"I bet a lot of couples don't get to spend their Friday nights this way," I say.

He failed to see the humor.

But soon, the chickens were caught and tucked into their hen house.

As for Saturday night? The hens went into the house, no fuss, no questions asked.