Meet the Triplets of Belleville

I was blessed last night with three new ladies for the flock!

After some catching up and discussion about chickens with the couple who gifted us the original chickens we agreed to trade alcohol for hens. I make my own wines and meads and they are fond of them. I wasn't planning on getting new hens till spring but it saved perfectly good young laying hens from the knife.

                                                          Fricassee, Marsala, and Confit

I am told they are silver grey Dorkings. I have also discovered that they are an SCA appropriate chicken breed in that they may go back to the Roman era.  I was at an SCA event in May where a gentleman was showing off his "period" chickens and the bug got stuck in my head about doing more with that.

As mentioned in the previous post, the Senior hens are none too pleased. Like human women, Rampage and Blackie don't get along all the time. Now that there are invaders in their pen they have banded together against the singing blight. 

Besides the fact that all three of our new guests look the same to me, and why I would call them triplets, they all sing quite well together. I would describe them as harmonious. There was quite a cacophony at feeding time this morning because there was lots of bickering on opposite sides of the tractor. The two groups have definitely got a few things to work out. 

The ladies around the water cooler.

As mentioned in the previous post about problems naming the food, I decided to follow some other good advice about just naming them after food. I picked some French food names and Marsala to fit with my Bellville theme. 

C'est la Vie!

Chickens, Hens, and Eggs; Oh My!

It's been a little over a year now that I've been living with chickens. It started out as my project and somehow became the daily chore of my boyfriend. He loves the chickens but does not want to deal with the final "processing" of them. So as beginning homesteaders we have found a perfect division of labor and interest on our new project. I could not be happier.

We have been fortunate enough to not be on this journey alone. We have a handful of friends that raise animals for subsistence or profit and they are always willing to share their knowledge and their extra animals. I can do all the reading in the world and still not feel confident about something until I've done it myself, so I am glad to have the firsthand advice of those close to me to help me wade through the questionable info on the internet.

We started with three hens: A Mottled Java, a Black Sumatra, and an Ameraucana. 

I had read about peoples' attachment to named animals and that we should not name our food but, I did it anyway. Being that I don't do the daily greeting and feeding of the hens I am less accustomed to their personality. While they have names, they are still just birds that live in my yard. I find it funny to hear about them from my boyfriend: "Rampage and Blackie were at it again," or "You should have seen her running atop that barrel!" When I hear these stories I think of them like the employees at his job; they are people I haven't met but know a little about. When distant people die I'm sad but, not personally.  But really, these chickens are here to give us eggs!

Perhaps I should explain how they got their names. I am the part-time nanny of  two elementary aged children. Over the Summer I tricked them into thinking we were going to a farm, because they were not thrilled about the idea of running errands with me, and took them to my house. The oldest of them was outraged and suggested that I lied. I asked her what the definition of a farm was and she informed me that it was a place where people raised animals and grew food. I pointed to my garden and my chickens and she furled her brow for a moment before she softened to the idea of meeting the feathered ladies. There were three hens and three of us so, we each named one. The Java was named Cinnamon, the Sumatra was named Blackie (because I wasn't in a creative mood), and the Ameraucana was dubbed Rampage. 

Rampage, for those of you who don't have eight year old boys in your lives, is the name of the newest and fiercest Nerf gun. 

He couldn't have picked a better name for the boss of the pen that clucks and chases, broods and *itches, and otherwise runs "the yard." 

A few months ago we lost Cinnamon. She was the eldest of the ladies and I suspect that was the cause of her passing. Since I was unaware of the real cause and time of death it was unwise to eat her. I took this opportunity to learn with my hands. I really am a kinesthetic learner. I took my cadaver and put her in scalding water and started to pluck. I followed youtube videos on how to skin and carve and preserve. I spent my whole day learning and doing. I boiled her parts and fed it to the woods (away from the house). 

Home Sweet Home

This homesteading idea of mine is a one-day-at-a-time process. Sometimes it is frustrating because I'm at a place where I'm ready to move forward but my boyfriend is not. Often it is an issue of time or money to improve or start the next project. I want to do everything at once but, I cannot. The wisest advice I have received so far is to find someplace where you are wasting and find a way to utilize that product. Once you're using everything then go on to the next project. So far I've found a use for all of my chickens and everything that they have given us and I am so grateful. 

My biggest issue was re-learning the many ways to cook and use eggs.