Justin and Claui have acquired a small flock of Banty-cross chickens. We were all enjoying watching them running free but, alas, then a fox showed up. Bold as brass and in the daytime.
There were no casualties but some close calls (Clover, the Jersey calf) chased the fox off once when it came into the pasture in pursuit of a bird) and now the biddies are confined in a chicken tractor while Justin constructs a secure chicken yard.
The chicks we brought home last month have feathered out and are venturing into their electric fence protected run. We're pretty sure that the white ones are layers of some sort, not the Cornish Rock broilers we had feared they might be.
The white ones are supposedly all pullets (females) but the brown ones are straight run -- which means a mix . . .
It's hard to tell just yet -- the roosters tend to stand a little taller and look gawkier. But pretty soon their combs will develop and it'll become obvious. At which point, kind-hearted readers, most, if not all will go into the freezer.
We already have a rooster with our laying flock and sad experience has shown that two roosters in an enclosed run will fight. Daily. Till one is dead.
The three bottle-fed calfies --Dexter, Xena, and Clover -- are all weaned now but they still like to hang out in the barn with Ruby, our tenant's mare.Clover's ready for her close-up.