Category Archives: Pets

Understanding Chicken Integration: A Beginner’s Guide (or Not)

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It’s been a couple of years since we moved out to Itsnotta Farm from the big city. We haven’t done much except maintain the property to the best of our ability… and add a few creatures. We’ve learned a lot. A lot. Mostly through trial and error. You tube has helped. A few folks have helped as well. Still, I’m not sure we’ve totally adapted. The youngest has made a few more friends. She’s settled in, but still doesn’t want to go to school. Admittedly, I don’t think that has anything to do with the actual school and its people. More than likely, that’s because of the early pick up time of the school bus. We’re still commuting back to visit and “be entertained” with stuff with a greater population. We love the porch and the pool, but the hubby just can’t bring himself to spend holidays here. A stay-cation with building projects would never suffice. Oh, he’s got a riding tractor and work pants now (which he looks super cute in!) but he still needs an “out”. That’s okay, I guess.

My newest batch of chick birds are now a week and a half old. To me, they have grown faster than my last flock, and seem much more mature. Or is it that I am more relaxed? Like a second time mom, I worry less and have let them tough it out alone more. I am trying to “imprint” with them… treats and time. This group is shy though. Or maybe I am expecting too much? Newborns (newly hatched?) don’t really have a routine at a week and a half. Your barely surviving at that stage. Huh. Perhaps I am asking to much for them to be bonded already.

A week and a Half…. and still learning!

Bonded or not, the chicks will soon have to meet the other ladies. And then start the great “integration process”. I’m reading up on it. Chickens are harsh. They’ll pick on the little ones if they seem to be a threat. Heck, they still pick on each other! I’m afraid it’s going to be a challenge. One more thing to learn out here in the brutal countryside. LOL.

And so my muse of the week: How does true integration work? Time? A useless goal? Not worth the effort? Does it take generations for it to really work, or do we just learn to fake it enough to tolerate each other? Integration is defined as:

“the action or process of successfully joining or mixing with a different group of people”

I suppose inanimate objects can be successfully joined for a purpose, like co-ordinating a fabulous outfit properly, but I suspect we are talking about people here and not a string of pearls. I’d venture a guess people are even harder than chickens, too. And so here we are. Learning to integrate. Perhaps many of you have had way more experience in this practice than I have. Moving to a rural neighbourhood is not like moving countries, or learning new languages, foods, cultures or the like. Or sure, there are similarities. Country folk have their own “culture” and style. Co-op feed stores are a great place to see this. Aisles of feed and bags of fertilizer and crop stuff… let alone the horse stuff. It’s a whole new world and lingo. And frankly, it scares me. But, I’m learning. I know what I know now and can ask for that.

Photo by Thirdman on Pexels.com: It’s a fine science this “integration”!

Perhaps one of the biggest hurdles in “integration” is at church. And that’s sad, really. Church should be the one place where everyone feels welcome. Have you ever been to a service where you didn’t know when to stand, sit, speak, cry, laugh or eat? Why do we make up rules? Who makes the rules? I get it. There is a “culture”. You learn the lingo, you hang with like minded folks, you gravitate to people who think and act the same way as you. Our new church is big. Two services big. We’re finding it hard to connect. Our old, little church was like family. This is like going to an extended reunion. They are still family, but distant cousins, not brothers and sisters yet.

Furthermore, there is that part of the integrating definition that says “successfully joining” together. When does that happen? How do you know? Will it just “hit” someday that yup, we’ve made it? We have infiltrated the “enemy lines” and have become one of them. Then, like any good spy, you fall in love and compromise any mission of take down. You become part of the flock.

Like all good muses here on mittonmusings, very little gets solved. It’s just a thing I’ve been thinking about. There’s no 12 step program to being a part of a new community, a new job, a new church, a new school, or a new flock. It takes time, some squabbles, some apologies and some trying again. Do you think Jesus’ band of misfits were a well-oiled machine? Unlikely. He did say to try to get along with everyone (Romans 12) as much as you are able. And to leave all the judging to Him. That’s not part of the job! It won’t happen at a week and a half. It might not happen in a year. Or more. A pecking order will have to get sorted out, but soon everyone will be roosting together like birds of a feather. At least that’s the goal.

The Story of Nieve: A Cat Named for Winter

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I wanna tell you a little story about how our female cat came to arrive at our house. I’ve always had long haired Persians or Himalayan pure bred cats, but the breed standard was changing and the push face Persian was no longer my favourite. So, we (okay I) researched the next pretty kitty and discovered a Birman breeder about an hour or two from where we were living at the time. I wanted a boy. Boy cats are always better (we can debate that later… but trust me). A litter of kittens later and long story short, a girl is what we got, so we just went with it. After all, she was a cute little bundle of fluffy white fur, and declared my birthday present to myself. I had to wait for some time before she arrived, but the real story comes on the day of her pick up to come home.

Dec. 17, 2016….worth the trip!

We drove the hour plus in a blinding snowstorm, complete with freezing rain, wind and white outs. The hubby was determined to please his wife, and so we continued on the journey arriving with carrier in hand to complete the sale. Upon arrival, after a somewhat harrowing trip, he refused to “talk cat” with two crazy cat ladies, so he decided to wait in the car as we went over pedigrees and plans. More than likely resting from the white knuckling drive. Finally the little bundle of joy was wrapped snug in her little blankie… but the car battery(exhausted by the wait) was now dead. A few choice words later and a boost from the breeder’s husband… both men seemingly weary from the chit chat of the said crazy cat ladies… the vehicle roared once more and we were finally on our way.

Now, I tell you this story to paint the picture of how “Nieve” got her name. A breeder often lists litters by alphabet, and this litter was “N”, so we searched for names depicting ice, snow, sleet etc. Nieve means “snow” in Spanish. It worked… and it stuck. Yup, around here, the weather is worth naming your cat after. We live in Canada. It’s cold. We now have a farmer’s field in front of us and field behind us. The wind whips through our yard like a tyrant on a rampage. It’s cold. I drove home in the dark the other night and hit a snow drift pushed across the road from the fields north of us. I slid through it. It’s cold. Did I mention we live in Canada? And did I mention it’s cold here?

Photo by Lauren Hedges on Pexels.com

This week a “polar vortex” is going through our neck of the woods. It’s cold. The wind is brutal and my bunnies and chickens are outside. The rabbits seem to tolerate it, but every morning the chick birds peep out and say “Nope, my skin wrapped chicken feet do not like the feeling of snow nor ice!” And off they go back inside. The water dishes freeze and I must replenish them several times. The yard is littered with “ice pucks” where I have cracked out the dish shaped “disk” and replaced it with liquid water. It’s cold.

Still, I suppose we are luckier than others. Our face isn’t freezing off at first sight. My hands are feeling it — but I still have all the tips of my fingers and toes. I still run out without full proper winter attire to do animal chores. And I survive. It’s harsh, but it’s better than a lot of places. It’s funny when you think about weather. I wonder why God let the seasons happen. Why did it become part of His science? It’s a muse I think about especially when the weather gets like this.

There certainly are a lot of biblical references to weather: “white a snow” “cold hearts”, and the like. Storms, rain and the calm. I guess people haven’t changed all that much… we still talk about the weather! I suppose it is a topic that unites us in some way… we all have our weather story. Like picking up Nieve. I suppose our God stories should be as easy to talk about as the weather. A natural part of our daily existence. Something not quite under our control but a part of us nonetheless. An underlying “thing” that changes the way we should prepare for the day… we put on our gloves and boots like we should put on our graceful attitudes. Our hearts should overflow with what they hold inside. Is your heart cold ? Or is it overflowing with God’s spirit … like the wind rushing through the farmer’s fields.

Dress warm my friends… inside and out!

(Photo generated with A.I.)

Anyway… this cold is what I’ve been thinking about this week. I hope it makes you (and I) reflect on how it can be an example for us. Thanks for hanging out and talking about the weather with me. You’ve been a good Canadian! Here’s to a warmer week next week!

The Role of a Rooster in your Flock: Introducing “Morris”

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Welcome back! If you’ve been following mittonmusings for any length of time, you’ll know that a flock of chickens have been on the want list for a very long time. It sparked a three year long search for the perfect country farmhouse and an uprooting of my entire family to move away from everything we knew and held dear. Which seems a little crazy now that I see it in black and white… but here we are! I planned, prepped and did my research. I sought out what breeds of chicks would be friendly, cold tolerant and easy for a beginner. I asked questions and read lots. I went through a reputable source and ordered six day olds… three of each kind. (In case you care to know, I have Americanas and Lavender Orpingtons). I discovered the order list was a little late, but in May of this year, the little bundles of fluff moved in.

My family tolerated the chicks and their crazy mom as they ran through the living room… and made a complete mess of my beautiful farmhouse. Still, mom was happy, and the dream was a reality, so what could they say? Eventually, the babies finally moved out and #itsnottafarm got a bit more “farm like”. And then tragedy struck.

“Mort” my dumbest (but most favourite) chicken got “lost”. Literally, lost. She more than likely wandered off into the woods and couldn’t make her way back. We saw no evidence of predators, so I would like to think she is happy somewhere… So we were down to five. And then: “Mavis” became “Morris”. Yup, I got a rooster. Which is not a surprise if you buy a “backyard mix”… it happens more than 50% of the time… but I had done my research, and planned remember? My chicks were supposed to be 98% guaranteed female. Laying hens. Alas, life always has other plans, eh? I denied it when she grew a bit bigger. I denied it when a friend commented. I denied it when her comb grew. I could deny it no longer when the crow came. We are now down to four girls and a very handsome, but definitely male, rooster. We now have “Morris.”

We now have a “Morris”

Is it so bad to have a rooster? No, not really. The rooster’s role in a flock is protector. A role “Morris” is taking on well. It’s actually kind of fun watching him call to his ladies … especially if one is falling behind. He’s a big boy, so can’t hop the fence as well as the hens… and he often gets stuck at the back of the pack. We are learning to “tame” him (although he is fairly friendly) as he is beginning to strut his stuff and challenge the hubby and the dog. I bring him treats so he likes me most of the time. He’s screaming in protest in the background as I type this! Oh brother… they are out on my porch… he’s calling them back… See? Welcome to my crazy life dream!

So, as we adjust to life on the “farm” now with a rather loud and unexpected rooster, I hope you find your own protector. I hope that God gives you someone who “has your back”. Who calls you back to Him when you stray a little too far. I hope there is one who may have been unexpected in your life, but is a vital part of it. I know God is good. He gives us what we need – when we need it most. It’s not always what we want… but He makes it all work out. There will be casualties. No one is perfect. Even if they are in authority and have a very important role in leadership. We will lose our friends sometimes. We will be challenged, and have to act on the defensive on occasion. I heard a tidbit of farm history, that weather vanes on top of barn roofs depicted roosters to remind us to be bold in our faith… and to not be like Peter who denied Christ three times before the crowing of the morning rooster. (By the way…they crow all day… and at any time of day…so yeah…there’s that).

“Morris” and his Ladies

I hope a “Morris” comes into your little world to bring you a bit of the unexpected. To keep you on your toes. To be bold and tough and a good protector. Yet, a beautiful soul who has every good intention to be wise and wary. A father figure, perhaps. Let this be your reminder to muse on them a little today – and be thankful for their role in your flock. Blessings, my beloveds.