Friday night, we had a storm blow in. And, we were planning on going to the Football game, for the big Homecoming ceremony. But first on my agenda was movin' Mama Hen and her babies. I got home promptly at 4:20 p.m., and changed into jeans. Then I put on my coat and gloves. The coat and gloves were for protection from Mama's beak, which I anticipated being jammed into a hand or arm sometime during this forced relocation.
I then marched outside, unwilling children in tow to assist.
But the nest was bare. Ok, not bare, there were two dead chicks and 4 eggs, but no hen. No chicks. O no.
We looked under the porches, all three of them. No chicks, no hen.
We looked under the ceder trees. No chicks, no hen.
We looked in the chicken yard. No chicks, lost of hens, but not the right hen.
We looked out in the feed shed. No chicks, no hen.
We looked in the shop. No chicks, no hen.
I looked out north of the shop. Hen and chicks. What a good Mama. She'd brought her eight babies to a spot out of the wind where there was lots of cracked corn spilled on the ground and lots of nice juicy bugs to eat. So, I started picking up babies and put them into the kennel. Then, I picked up Mama, who didn't even try to peck me, and put her into the kennel too. I got the last couple of babies and them carried the whole kit 'n caboodle to the chicken pen.
We have a small fenced area inside the chicken pen, so I set the kennel inside that area, got them water and feed, and left them to roam their new home.
All seems to be well, except, well...on Friday, there were eight babies. Saturday night, there were seven. And this morning, there were six. I'm not sure where these little ones are disappearing to. I'm not sure if a cat is getting a nice lunch, or if they find a way out of the pen and then get lost and then get caught by a cat. I don't know. But, at this rate, by Saturday, I won't have any more chicks...again. sigh.
So goes life on a farm.