Of Mice and Various Snakes and new Duck Feed Station

As mentioned in the previous post, our region is experiencing a near-Biblical plague of mice. "It's due to all the moisture we had this Spring, plus the flood displacing so much wildlife", someone mentioned. Unfortunately, where there's a plethora of mice, there's snakes, and not just the cool ones that mind their own business and snarf down a rodent now and then. Like the rat snake we adopted from friends, which was captured due to it being lazy and hanging around the chicken coop for easy eggs. That's a cool snake.

First off, mouse management soapbox: I implore you, do NOT use sticky traps outdoors. It will trap ~anything~ that crosses its path, including small bunnies, squirrels and the aforementioned snakes, cool ones or otherwise. It's a horrible way to die. Instead, we had the local pest control company come out and install poison-bait boxes. They double-checked for us and confirmed that any poisoned mice (the product they use causes quick death via severe dehydration) are safe for consumption by both mammals and other avians, including chickens.

[Oh, speaking of chickens, "Veronica" made a full recovery, yay!!!]

Next, we're reconfiguring areas close to the house and animal shelters that are conducive to mouse habitat. We knew for sure there were mice living under one of the duck shelters. Demolishing the shelter moved to the top of the timeline lickety-split when I found a @#$!! rattlesnake in the nesting area.

Thankfully, I was awake enough during that morning egg check to see the snake before I reached down. It was having a nice snooze. I didn't recognize it at first, so got a long stick to lift it up in order to check for rattles. Rattles there? Yep. It didn't start getting annoyed until I tried to move it out, so I closed off the area to keep the birds out, got on some boots & jeans, found the square-edge shovel, and went back out. The snake was now gone. Kinda glad I didn't have to kill it, but that also meant there was a rattlesnake on the loose, the first we've seen since we moved to this property. Eep.

New duck feeding station, front view. 

Spouse made a new, bigger feed station to replace the old duck shelter /feed station (we still have one other shelter, which is plenty big enough for all). It's configured with the roof slanted and on a hinge, so the roof will shed water off the back, and the roof can also be lifted up if you don't want to bend down to grab the feeder. This weekend, he started moving the old duck shelter out of the pen and found... a couple of dead mice, and two very comfy & satisfied rattlesnakes living in the old mouse nest. No wonder the ducks were avoiding the shelter.

Spouse decapitated the snakes as quickly/humanely as he could (see square shovel still on roof of new feed station), created a stable base, and installed the new feed station to replace the old one that had been part of the now-removed old duck shelter. I may end up putting a rain gutter and spout on the back, connected to a large tub, as an additional source of water for the ducks to play in during the rainy season.

New duck feeding station, back view.

The dogs have been taken in for rattlesnake vaccines. You get the first vaccine, then a booster at three weeks, then a shot every six months. It doesn't prevent illness from bites, but instead gives the canine more time to be taken to the vet for treatment. The vet reported that one poor local dog was bitten four times, and the owner said it was the first time in 30 years they'd ever seen rattlers on their ranch. Seems like the Hill Country is a buffet for the snakes this year.

When all's said and done, it doesn't bother me too much to have found rattlesnakes on the property. We've been fortunate to have avoided them for this long. It does mean taking a few more precautions before doing certain kinds of work, however, but that's manageable. As the area settles in for the Long Hot season, the mouse population will start dwindling, which should do the same for the snake population as well.

*splutter* Winter?

I mean, what the heck happened to Fall??? Texas has been hit with wave after wave of Arctic downdrafts. The cool concrete flooring I wax so joyously about in the Summer now feels like a block of ice, and this year (like last year, and the year before) I swear to get a couple of good sized area rugs to stave off frostbite. I mean, it's so bad that when Spouse surprised me with a pair of insulated muck boots for Christmas, I almost cried - I need them for inside almost as much as outside. Of course, I could just buy the d*mn rugs already...

The biggest event since last post has been The Flood. Our area received eleven inches of rain over a single night, ripping up the roads within AND leading out of the community. Spouse and Uncle brought in a few loads of roadbase right away to patch up our biggest ruts, but we ended up needing three more dump-truck loads to complete all the needed repairs. Our next-door neighbor was a tremendous help, loaning his time & tractor skills not only to repair our culverts and rutted road, but also assisting other neighbors, and doing what he could to temporarily shore up the community road until we all finish fundraising for a pro fix. If it weren't for him, we'd still be 4x4'ing to get anywhere. Thank you D. (and spouse T. for letting him!), more "spontaneous" smoked ribs coming your way!

pic: tangerines, satsumas & limes

In the category of "Hopes & Dreams", the first seed catalog to arrive this season was Good Seeds from Baker Creek Heirlooms, right before Christmas. Second in the mailbox was Bountiful Gardens, the gold standard for everything heirloom, untreated & open pollinated. I've put in a catalog order for Southern Exposure Seed Exchange in hopes of more varieties that will work well in our semi-arid region. Our "average" last frost is in mid-March, and if I want any Summer tomatoes at all, I'll need to start seedlings in early February.

While the garden may have been an epic FAIL in 2013, we had a nice Winter harvest of citrus. There are still some fruits ripening on the trees, but initial harvest of limes gave us enough for two ice-cube trays full of juice, which was promptly frozen & stored for future use. Other limes were used fresh for personal libations, on those few porch-sitting, warm weather days.  Spouse shored up & modified our old kit greenhouse to accommodate the taller citrus trees. The structure has done well by us: it's been a greenhouse in the Winter, and secondary duckpond structure in the Summer. We really need to get a bigger, sturdier greenhouse built in 2014, however, as this one is on its last legs. The plastic joiners can only be repaired so much, and the geese have chewed the edges of the plastic tarp cover to ribbons.

pic: yes, the geese did this

The chickens started their annual egg-laying slowdown around late August, and all but two hens went on outright strike until the other week. Our girls are getting older, but even the youngest (who are less than 2 years old) said "meh". Of course, when the light wanes the girls lay less by nature. We could put a 12-hour timed light in the henhouse, which would trick the girls into laying a few more eggs during Winter... but, nahh. Just two weeks after Solstice, however, the two youngest girls started adding to weekly egg tally, and I'm guessing by late February, we'll be back up to a decent production, enough to sell again. May get a handful of Welsummers to freshen up the flock this Spring. Had high hopes the Welsummer rooster would work out and give us a few pretty babies, as Lucky's progeny turn out too flighty for my preference, but Lucky the Leghorn rooster Did Not Want. The two roosters fought until bloody, with Lucky getting the worst of it. Lucky ultimately won the war by virtue of being a known good roo to the ladies. The Welsummer was shipped off to a new home. Perhaps I'll wait for another rooster & homegrown chicks after Lucky retires to the henhouse in the sky, so to speak.

pic: Nutmeg the Cubalaya, RIP

Speaking of chickens, we did lose one of the Pecking Order Enforcers from our first hand-raised flock, the small yet mighty Nutmeg. She'd been slowing down for a couple of months, and (what turned out to be) her last two weeks I'd bring her inside the house at night, where it was warmer. During her last week, she'd walk towards the house at dusk instead of the coop, and wait for me to bring her inside. She was the only hen that Bandit the dog would willingly share morning breakfast. She is survived by her sister Cinnamon, and two others of the original flock. We will miss her.

Now that Bandit's been mentioned, I must report that most of our savings for a garage has been spent on getting her knees repaired - yep, both back knees. One blew out late Summer, and the other right before Thanksgiving. It's a good three months of rehab (thankfully, we can do that for her ourselves), then three more months before the knee is solidly healed. Not that I know all that much about joint repair and rehab, mind you. I'm not bitter, I swear.

We still have the full flock of ducks: nine hens, and one drake. The ducks experienced a major egg slowdown like the chickens this season, then egg production rose these past few weeks as well. I'm on the lookout for paperboard duck-egg cartons, so if you happen to see any in your 'net wanderings, drop us a line in the comments? Gracias!

pic: Queen Moe,
in dressing room sans costume

Queen Moe had a moment of stardom this Fall when she won Second Place (in the "exotics" category) at a Pet Costume fundraiser for a local convalescent center. I whipped up a pumpkin cape for her back, and prayed no-one would judge for quality stitching. She beat out a horse painted like Nemo the clown-fish, but lost to two small children who painted up their hermit-crab aquarium so their crabs looked like they lived in an undersea world. [One friend mock-huffed "ageism!" Never compete against small children with pets*, or something like that.] Moe was a right trooper, letting herself be carried to, and petted by, all the seated patients in attendance. Her Majesty let me know she was ready to go home by tugging on my shirt towards the end of the event. Not sure where the video of her doing the shirt-tug is hiding, so the pic with ribbon award will have to do.

Last, but not least, we're now preparing for the arrival  of Extreme Goose Crabbiness, also known as Goose Egg-Laying Season. There have been signs, such as heightened annoyance (versus regular annoyance) when anything non-goose gets near, and some of the ladies have been seen checking out the undersides of bushes and other likely laying spots. No synchronized head-bobbing in the Pool o' Woo yet, nor any gander battles either, thank goodness. We wait with bated breath, chewed fingernails, and protective gear at ready.

*"Never work with animals or children." - W.C. Fields

Avian Leukosis

This is what Miss Cecily, and one other animal on the Big Softie Ranch - Hoppy the Chicken - had contracted: Avian Leukosis. It is a vertically transmitted virus, from infected mother to embryo chick. Miss Cecily's body was riddled with these tumors. All her major organs were affected (especially her liver), and her skeletal muscles as well. There is no cure. It was a minor miracle we kept her alive for this long.


With two separate birds/breeds post-mortem diagnosed with Avian Leukosis, this means the poultry breeder from whom we bought these girls has some problems. To be fair, however, no breeder is completely free from this issue. There's no way to tell if a young bird is infected other than biopsy. Regardless, because of other problems we have encountered with birds from these folks, we have already started buying from another breeder.

Photo: a retrovirus, courtesy of The Full Wiki.

RIP Miss Cecily, aka Squeezlegoose

One of my favorite photos of Miss Cecily

She couldn't pick herself up from the floor. If I was able to help her onto her feet, she was at most able to take three steps before she was back on the ground again. I was helping her stand to drink water, to move around. Her eyes were still bright and alert, but the rest of her body was no longer willing to continue.  It was a hard decision, but in the end, it made sense to have her euthanized. I know, I know - for animals, the term is supposed to be "put down", but you know what? She'd become such a part of this family that I just can't use that term. My apologies to the purists.

Squeezlegoose doing the limbo under the
(supposed) anti-goose barriers for the dog beds.

Spouse said that I always doted on Miss Cecily, even when we first got her as a gosling. Something about the tilt of her eyes, her Very Small Tuft, her calm demeanor, her insistence on sleeping on the dogs' beds, always finding a way around or under any obstruction we'd put in place. How she and Godzilla were sweethearts, even though Tufted Romans are harem-minded by breed. And in the house: how she'd grunt in front of the refrigerator when she wanted greens, or would stand by the stove when she wanted her smoothie. Then how she'd tug on the hem of our shorts or pants, as if stamping her foot impatiently, while we got her food ready. And don't you dare forget to let her have her daily nap on your chest. If you missed the regular nap time, she'd stare you down with those beautiful, beady blue eyes until it felt like a laser piercing your skull. Must. Obey. The Squeezle.

Miss Cecily as a gosling, looking at Billy-Bob as if
to say "dude, you're doing it wrong..."

We're having her autopsied to see if some sense can be made of what she went through, in hopes it can help other birds in the future, and I'll be sure to post results here as well. We can't get her intact body back, but can get it back cremated, so that's what we'll do. Some have said that very few people would have gone to the lengths Spouse and I did to keep Miss Cecily going, in hopes she'd heal from this strange malady. I don't believe this makes us either heroes or fools - it's simply something we did for a beloved pet who gave so much to us. I daresay others would have done similar.

I found a bit of her goosedown on the floor today (amidst many other feathers, as she was going through her Fall molt). In time it will be put into the compost bin, like all things, even eventually our own sweet selves. For now, however, it's on my desk. I pick it up and give it a kiss now and then. Much love to you, Sensei Cecily, Guruji Goose. You taught me so much about life, illness and death. Sweet breezes and fair journeys.

R.I.P. Godzilla

Miss Cecily's sweetheart, Godzilla, passed away early this afternoon. I had noticed him breathing a bit heavily on Saturday, and made plans to take him into the vet on Monday. Monday, his breathing was much worse. While at the vet getting tests done, he passed away. An autopsy will be performed to find out the cause, to make sure what happened isn't a disease that is/was communicable to the other geese.

Godzilla was one our two first hand-raised goslings. He was a sweet, sweet boy (except during mating season, of course). Although Tufted Romans are harem-minded, not mate-for-life types, he and Miss Cecily were always close. He and Billy-Bob both liked to come inside the house to visit Miss Cecily in her recovery area, or hang outside the porch next to the screen door and nap close by.

Billy-Bob has some big webbed feet to follow. Rest in peace, Godzilla.

[pic top: Godzilla in the mist. pic bottom: how Godzilla got his name - he was HUGE compared to the chicks!]

Special note to Ma Nature: enough illness and death for now, okay?

R.I.P. Specklebutt

Spouse found Specklebutt dead in a small oak and cedar grove behind the house. Spouse believes she was a victim of a hawk attack that got interrupted, and looks like it was a (thankfully) quick kill. The dogs, geese and roosters are usually good about warning and scaring off predators, but sometimes a chicken will wander off on her own, out of sight of the safety of the group. It looks like Speckle did just that. Spouse and I have accepted the risk of an occasional predator kill in exchange for the knowing that the chickens - and their eggs - will be much healthier for the freedom to roam and forage where they will. 

I'd like to think Speckle had a good life here. Greens, table scraps and organic scratch in the morning, and free-ranging throughout the property during the day. Organic laying feed available whenever she felt like eating. Sleeping high in the cedar boughs at night. She even got to lay and raise her own offspring. Not many laying hens get the opportunity to any or all of these, though it is my wish that all may get to do so, soon.

Her remains have been buried under the big oak tree, where all our other beloved feathered critters lay.  Rest in peace, Specklebutt.

[Pic: Herself, with Specklebutt Junior, aka "Peeper" the beta roo.]

Minnie Pearl the Chicken, RIP

Spouse thought Minnie Pearl might have had a dislocated hip. We decided to take her into the vet bright & early this morning. X-Rays showed instead of a dislocated hip, her knee was shattered and ligaments completely rent. Surgery was possible, but success highly unlikely. I decided it would be best to have Pearl euthanized. I held her as the overdose shot of barbiturate was injected.

Some might say "well, it's just a chicken", and I'd understand their sentiment. On the other hand, owning chickens has given me a whole new perspective on birds and bird personalities, and to me, chickens are no longer "just chickens". They're amazing, funny, silly creatures who not only entertain, but give us eggs to eat, too. So I'm crying some with Pearl's passing, but I also know this is part of farm life, and will be okay. I'll bury her beneath the big oak tree where our other deceased chickens lay. The cycle of life continues.

[pic: a few weeks back, Pearl enjoying her first day of freedom with a group dust bath. Many thanks to everyone for your support, and especially to MaryBeth for introducing me to Linda and her wise chicken healing ways.]

death and life

The "family issues" that Spouse delicately referred to in the earlier post was a funeral for my grandmother. She'd been in a long, slow decline for almost a decade, but it's still hard to imagine that such a force of nature is no longer with us. May she be at peace.

Spouse was unable to go with me, as we still don't have a backup for critter care. But looky what he found - the Frau has been one busy girl! We hadn't expected eggs yet, but yeah, it's about the right time. Life continues onward.

Death and Dismemberment

It was our fault, as owners, that the chickens got into the dog partition of the primary pen. I had seen the chickens hanging out on the roof of the pup’s shade awning, and assumed they would fly over into the chicken side come evening, like they usually do. Wrong. Dead wrong.

Spouse and I went out for supper, and when we came back, checked on all the critters per usual. Saw only one grown chicken sleeping in the coop (Nutmeg). Umm, eh? Shined the flashlight on the cedars, no big chickens roosting there. Looked around the pen, and saw two chickens in a sleep fugue on the hay bales in the pup partition. Ruh-roh.

Grabbed Hausfrau #2, and moved her to the coop. Went to move Cinnamon, and noticed that her feathers appeared to have been gnawed a bit, and had a slobbered look to them. Her wings and legs checked out okay, so moved her gently to the coop as well, hoping that there was no internal damage. Wait, where’s Hausfrau #1?

Poor baby. What remained of her was in the doghouse. She wasn’t eaten, just probably “played with” to death.

You don’t correct pups or dogs after-the-fact, as it just confuses them, and it’s cruel. But I was FURIOUS. I slammed my fist into the doghouse roof and let loose a string of invectives that would have made my dead Marine Corps daddy proud. If the pups were oblivious before then, they were aware that "something was wrong" now.

I picked up the dead chicken by the foot, fished the other leg out of the doghouse, and put both pieces atop the compost pile to await burial the next morning. Spouse walked the pups to the secondary pen and set them there for the night, so they couldn’t continue to snuffle or search for any remaining chicken parts I may have missed. While they remained waiting in the secondary pen the next morning, I cleaned out all the hay in the doghouse, and searched the pen for any remaining chicken gore. The pups snuffled around a bit when I put them back into their primary pen, but I made damn sure there were no leftovers to be had.

Oddly enough, chicken training has gained a greater clarity for both pups since then. Bandit was always pretty good with the chickens, but Maggie had an intense curiosity for those bouncy feathered things, and would need several take-downs to become submissive. Now, she’s very meek and mild around the girls. Hmph. Training will continue every day, as it did in the past, regardless. Alpha dog - me - is NOT amused, and I can call up the patience and determination of Job once I’m on a tear.

The three remaining* first-gen chickens seem to have created an even tighter bond with each other - I’m guessing along the lines of “We Survived Hell Hound Night 2008”. Maybe I should print them some t-shirts.

*the roos were picked up on Saturday, and the next-gen chickens were integrated with the big chickens on Sunday. More on them, later.