Dog Debacle & Redemption

It was all my fault.

It was easier to get Bandit into the cab of the truck instead of the bed, because the used utility truck we own was/is jacked up for bushwhacking. Though the truck bed tailgate is out of easy reach, Bandit can get her paws up to the cab floor. Once she's on her hind legs, all I need to do is lift her arthritic hips, and let her walk forward. Her sister Maggie can jump into the truck cab all by herself, so this should be easy, right?

Yeah. You know where this is going.

In the interests of efficiency and saving time, my keys, purse, phone, and full travel mug of coffee are placed in the cab's center console before getting Bandit inside. From there, as they say, "chaos ensues".

Center console with coffee and purse overturns as Bandit gets into the truck and decides she is going to drive. Bandit's paws and underbelly also happen to have soil all over from digging up a cool spot under the trees, so soon there is soil mixed with coffee mixed with nervous dog saliva all over the vinyl seats, floors, and dashboard. Swell. No time to do more than wipe the driver seat with a nearby towel, and off we go to the vet. Bandit continues to insist on driving, or at the very least sitting on my lap en route. I strong-arm her aside for the blessedly short 2.3 mile drive, while giving thanks for automatic transmission. Bandit is the poster-dog for pet-seat restraints.

We get to the vet. I step out of the cab and get ready to leash her when she leaps from the truck seat and starts a panicked run off the vet property. Gawds, this day is getting better & better. A vet tech witnesses the commotion, and makes an end-run before Bandit heads into the local subdivision. So glad she loves the vet techs. Bandit practically drags me into the vet office after capture, trailing the tech.

I pick Bandit up later that afternoon. The tech helps me lift Bandit into the truck bed instead of the cab, as I still don't want anyone but myself driving. I bungee Bandit's collar to a tie-down in the truck bed to deter a potential suicide leap while on the drive home. I was not looking forward to lifting her out of the truck bed by myself, but I'd rather get her home safe and deal with a torqued back from lifting than wrestling the wheel with her on the road. Party pooper, I know.

Photo: Bandit is unbungee'd at this point, I swear.

Here we get to the redemption part. Perhaps some rare moment in the past when I wasn't crabby, I made someone smile and accrued some positive vibes. Don't know how else to credit the idea that pops into my head on how to get Bandit out of (and in the future, into) the truck bed. Next to our driveway is a section of deep/high cutout on the hillside. I back the truck up to the cutout, and drop the tailgate. It lines up perfectly with a level patch of ground. Maggie, excited to see her sister, bounds up the gentler part of the slope and runs into the truck bed to get a good sniff of Bandit. I stand around feeling smug, admiring my handiwork, then wonder why Bandit isn't leaving the truck.

Oh, right. She is still bungee'd to the truck bed.

Bless the unconditional love that dogs give us. I'm not sure how Bandit survives our relationship.

Portents & Signs

 This could be a sign...

...that we need to ride our bikes more often.

Happy May Day!

[pic: Inca dove.]

The Shark Cage

Baby chicks are adorable balls of fluff. Chickens, baby or full grown, are also predators, and not above cannibalizing their own, alive or dead. Natalie of the wonderful Chicken Blog wrote of having a "shark cage" to protect her hens from predators. I've had to create a shark cage to protect some of the chicks from each other.

Feather picking can happen for any number of reasons. Boredom, noticing new blood feathers emerging (the sight of blood gets them into a frenzy, just like sharks), too small a pen, poor feed, too hot... the possibilities are many. This flock is the first I've raised - and I think I've raised at least four - that this has ever happened. After finding three butt-pecked chicks (now five-week-old pullets) in the space of thirty minutes, figured it was time to change things up for the flock.

It was time to move them to the Big Blue Room.

The first of the butt-picked. My cuddle buddy, a rooster.

First, sequester the butt-picked. Sprayed Blue-Kote on their backsides to clean and dye the area so the red isn't so obvious, which in turn dyes my own hands & arms in the overspray. It's the gentian violet. Awesome. Great for temporary tattoos. Left them in the living room with towels, food & water. They mostly pooped on the towels. Mostly.

Next, I looked around, and figured the easiest place to put the new digs was directly behind the 10'x10' coop (the Home Despot modified shed), under the sprawling oak. Good protection from any northern winds, and a nice combo of sun and shade for the pen. Snagged a roll of fencing, moved a pallet of rotting straw that was in the way, set up a pallet against the coop as a temporary roost. Trimmed the low oak branches, moved rocks, set up a protected feed/water area. Put eyebolts on the coop wood trim, attached a large tarp for rain protection, then bungied the opposite ends to the oak branches. Set up a "shark cage" within the new digs for the injured pullets, and set up the heat lamp so the heat would be shared by both areas.

The new palace.

Last but not least: capture then move the 27 pullets from the porch pen to their new digs. One chick eluded my grasp and managed to fly over into the duckling pen, freaking out the ducks. The ducklings huddled with fright in a corner as the chick strutted around, proud of her skills. [Spouse laughed when I told him this part. "That's right, b*tches, I can FLY!"]

Duckling: "What-what-WHAT???"

The chicks were in turn freaked out by the Big Blue Room at first. "No porch wall! No ceiling! What's this weird stuff beneath my feet? AIIEEE!!!!". Took a better part of an hour for them to calm down and come out from under the pallet. Took a little longer for them to forgive me.   

A few of the chicks, now on top of the pallet. They learn fast. 

Overnight, a cold front blew in (of course!), and this morning found part of the fence blown down. Thankfully it was early enough that the mature hens hadn't decided to check out the new girls, and the new girls weren't too keen on exploring yet. Threw some chopped lettuce into the center of the pen to distract the chicks, then fixed the fence. 

Whew. Quite the 24-hours for chicks and human alike. 

Feel Free to Laugh at Our Pain

Video was taken a few years ago, but the situation remains the same: it's egg-laying season for the geese, and the geese are crabby. Thankfully it's only four months out of the year.

I Love This Goose & Duck Feeder, Okay?

Installed the last new poultry and waterfowl feeder a couple weeks ago. It took the place of an old goose feeder station that used two baby pig troughs mounted on a backboard. While prepping for replacement, dug out the sunken pavers that held up the old station so it could be re-leveled. When I saw all the worms wriggling in the dug-up soil below, I called over the hens so they could have a snack.

I've seen at least one of these girls swallow a small snake, whole. Despite those kinds of instincts, these hens did not understand the concept of eating worms. What???

A few brave souls would eyeball a worm, pick it up and give it a shake. They'd then drop the worm and walk away. Ooookaaaay. I had to make up for that obviously bad call by scattering some scratch for them to eat. I have a reputation to maintain as the biggest providing rooster, you know.

photo of the Saturn 3 (smaller feeder)
courtesy Premier 1 Supplies

Moving along: All the moving, digging and leveling done in the area of the old feed station left me smelling of waterfowl spit and old fermented grains. The work (and smells) were worth it all, however, as the new station is nice and level, and there will be so much less waste with these new feeders, Saturn 15's from Premier 1 Supplies (and no, I'm not getting paid for this review, it just took a long time to find a good feeder large enough for ducks and geese).

The Saturn 15 has larger feed openings than the Saturn 3, and easily fits most duck and goose heads, although you could always remove every other "bar" on the grill if you needed larger openings. The feeders have eliminated a good 80% or more food waste, which is a significant cost savings when it comes to organic chow.

Some things I've learned about using feeders - in general, and specifically the Saturn 15 - for ducks and geese:

Photo of ours, the Saturn 15.
Not as pretty as Premier 1's photo. 

1. Since they need to drink water to wash down dry feed, one needs to keep drinking water near the feed station. They will often grab a mouthful of feed then dunk their beaks in the water. This can lead to drinking water needing refreshing twice a day, so the grains don't start fermenting.

2. When ducks & geese move from water bowl to the Saturn 15 feeder, their wet beaks can leave moisture in the feed, which may clump and block feed in the tower from refilling the base. You'll want to raise the tower to sit at its highest level on the base, and to check the feeder to ensure free-flowing feed. I give our feeders a few shakes every night to ensure the base is filled.

3. If you don't hang the feeder, the small "hat" at the top of the feeder can get knocked off by a stiff breeze or a curious goose. I use a carabiner clip at the top to keep the hat on the feeder. The hat also keeps chickens from trying to roost at the top.

4. Although feed gets eaten rather quickly around here, the fats in organic feed/grains can go rancid if kept too warm for long periods of time. Keep feeders protected from direct sunlight. Spouse built these wooden feed protectors for both sun and rain protection.

The one downside: we had hoped the new feeders would keep out the dogs, who believe that being fed twice a day is not quite enough. Since they no longer have the easy access like they did the old feeders, they've taught themselves to lick the feed out from between the grill bars instead. *sigh*. Dogs.