Friday, February 25, 2011

Goodbye Pharaoh...and Empress

Yesterday, when going out to feed the chickens, the small bantam rooster, Pharaoh, flogged my Bata industrial boots (mucking boots)...it was the first time he had dared to do something so rooster-like.
Poor thing didn't know that I had been thinking how he and his mate, Empress, were more trouble than they were worth. His flogging performance sort of sealed the deal of their departure. But breaking it to their owner, my youngest daughter, wouldn't be so simple.

Bantam Baby
Pharaoh as a chick. See that glint in his eye...already scheming on me, he was.

You see, I've been wanting free-range chickens since we made our big move out here to the wilds of Oklahoma. And just last year that desire to have chickens came to fruition.
Last Spring we purchased six pullets and they're definitely high production egg layers! The three gold sex-links average five eggs a week per chicken and they're producing large to extra-large size eggs. The three white rocks have performed almost as satisfactory although their eggs are a bit smaller, but I've been happy with these six hens.
The newer crop of chicks we purchased last Fall, have started to mature. My oldest girl's Wyandottes have both started laying and one of my Buff Orpingtons has started laying. We still have another Buff Orpington that hasn't. We also have Mr. Incredible, our incredibly handsome Buff Orpington rooster, that seems to be a bit on the dull side...but that's okay because I'm not scared of him. And with that, we come back to Pharaoh and his queen, Empress...both of which would become cat chow in a heartbeat should I let them out with the rest of the chickens.
I'm a practical woman and Tim has indulged me quite enough with this chicken dream of mine. I can't ask him to build an extra coop for the small ones as an extra run and coop was built this past Fall for any hens that go broody and decide to raise some chicks this Summer.
Enough is enough...and all this was explained to my darling daughter as tactfully as possible. Yes, there was crying and pleading, but I wouldn't be moved from my decision. She understands now and is already planning how she can get back into the whole chicken project here at our little farm.
But I can't help but suspect that one day when she's all grown and she has a place of her own there will be bantams there, lots of them.
Have a safe and blessed weekend, Julie

February2011 1041

6 comments:

Jenn4him said...

So, will they become dinner? Or are you getting them another home? I can't remember what kind of chickens we had when I was 11 and 12. I loved them. I hope one day to get more. That is if the Lord blesses us with a home to do so one day. Can't have them here in the city. You have to have 3 acres per law. Anyway, I'd have to leave them a lot this summer as we will be camping often. So, I will have to live through others vicariously!

Eat, Fart and Bark said...

Hey Julie, You might let them out with the other chickens and see what happens. Our banty holds his own and is king over the others. He and his empress might just stay out of the way of Mr. Incredible. Plus if Mr. Incredible is dull, it might be Pharaoh that runs off the 'possum or snake. Keep a rake with you to keep him off your boots, you can launch him to the moon a few times to take out your frustrations. We do have a couple of other banty teens that will end up on the dinner table as soon as the weather is nice. I have a soft spot for bantys.

Julie... said...

Jane, come get them, please,...really, if you want them, you can have them :-)!

Brownie said...

I have wanted chickens for the eggs - but we have so many cats! In fact - the cats live in the chicken coop.

Any suggestions on chickens and cats?

See Jamie blog said...

My youngest, standing over my shoulder, is jealous of your chickens. My older daughter, however, would encourage you to fry them up for dinner. She was attacked by a chicken when she was little & still holds a grudge (and scars).

CrossView said...

It took me and my girls a looooong time to deal with losing chickens. We always named them even though Guy tried to get us not to. But over time, it got easier. Now we don't remember a lot of the ones we were attached to. Attacking roosters helped us learn to say "goodbye". LOL!