Bound To Happen

I'd been questioning the gender of some of the young Silkies for a while, but none had yet developed the really bulging comb that Musashi has (and had from the beginning).  It was too much to hope that all six of the chicks would turn out to be girls.  Sure enough, yesterday one of the greys began giving out with a beginner's crow.  Like an adolescent boy whose voice is cracking, it takes a while for the cockerel to develop his true tones and doodle-doos.  I have my doubts about a couple of the others, and will wait a bit to be sure before trying to find the boys new homes.  There can only be one rooster in that pen.  (The girls need their rest!)

Satomi and Keiko are going broody again, and I feel bad about denying their wish for motherhood, but there's just so much room in the Taj, and ten is about all it will hold.

There are gender issues in the big pen, also.  Getting the chicks when they're just a couple of days old, they are too young to be sex specific.  I'm pretty sure the big, black and white splashed Araucana is a male (he's really gorgeous), and there's a strong possibility that one of the Rhodies is also a rooster.  If they continue to get along, the number of girls and the size of the coop might allow both of them to stay.

In every flock, there are a few who stand out, who capture my attention and affection.  Yuki in the Silkie pen, with her come-hither squat, is one of those.  Special hens in the big pen from the past have included little brain-damaged, paralyzed Donna and her companion, Madelyn; Stumpy, of course; Crooks, whose beak halves overlapped but who lived many years with that challenge; and Tattle-Tale Tessie, who ratted out her companions every night.  There is a strong contender for the Number One position this year.  This batch of young ones seems to have a little trouble getting with the nighttime program.  While most are going in on schedule, there are those hold-outs who need herding in at dusk.  As I come into the pen, the renegades run to the far corners...all but one.  For the past week, one smallish, black and white barred Rock has run to me.  Not wanting to step on her or trip over her as I chased down the escape artists, I picked her up and carried her with me as I herded the runaways into the coop, then gave her a cuddle and a little sweet talk before tucking her in at last.  Now that is our nightly routine.  It's a bit awkward, trying to herd chickens who won't stay in once they go in, manage the Dutch door to the house, and close latches with a chicken under my arm.  I tried putting her in with the first group to go in, but she squirted back out and ran right to me again.  She seems to be a one-woman chicken.  She hasn't told me her name yet.