the Saturday Breakfast Serial

What is the Saturday Breakfast Serial?

Welcome to the Saturday Breakfast Serial!  I'm trying an experiment here to breath new life into my neglected blog.  So I thought it would be fun to work on a story in weekly installments.   It's an experiment, so I guess I will just have to see how it goes.  I'll do my best.  After all this is how I started writing Tea With Whimsy.

This first one will probably be a short story, possibly told in only two installments.  I don't have a title, so I'll just call it...

 

The Desk

       In my house is an old desk.  The kind that people used to call a secretary.  A beautiful piece of oak furniture with intricate carving on the front.  It was here when I moved in, apparently left behind by the previous owners.  When I first saw it, I tried to open it, but it was locked.  I tried to contact the previous owners, but they wouldn’t return my calls.  I guess they didn’t want the desk.  I was only mildly annoyed that I couldn’t make full use of it, but it was beautiful and didn’t take up much room, and it did seem to belong just in that spot in the house.  I decided to keep my eye out for any keys I might come across at yard sales or second hand stores.  And maybe if I was lucky, it would turn up somewhere in the house.  Eventually, I forgot my mission to find a key for it.



I had been living in the house several years now, and one day I was raking the leaves in my front yard.  It was a beautiful Autumn afternoon, late in October, and the sun was shining brightly upon leaves of red and gold.  Occasionally the wind would blow through sending more leaves cascading down from oak and maple branches.  In those moments I would stop and simply watch the leaves falling, delighting in the way the wind would toss them once more into the air, and how the leaves would skip away turning cartwheels before it.
I had just turned back to my rake and was vigorously using it to toss leaves into the flower beds that lined the path to my front door, when I happened to trip over a fairly large round stone, one of many that lined the gently curving bed.  Having knocked it out of place, I bent down to replace it and saw an object which caught my attention.  It was encrusted with soil, but even so, I could see it was a very old, very rusty iron key.  And I suddenly thought of the desk.  Leaving my rake leaning against the front porch, I rushed indoors to scrub clean the key.  I couldn’t wait to try it.
After rinsing layers of caked on dirt from the key and scrubbing the rust off with emery cloth, it seemed ready to try and I headed for the desk.
Just as I approached the desk, there was a knock at the door.  I hesitated longing to ignore the interruption, but the struggle was only a brief one and my own good manners won out over my desire to satisfy my curiosity.  I slipped the key into my trouser pocket and went to answer the front door.
I opened the door to find one of the neighbor kids standing on the front porch holding my rake.  He wanted to know if I needed help with the leaves.  I knew this boy.  He was a good worker and so I told him to go ahead with the raking, and to come see me after.
It seemed that I was not destined to try the key anytime soon, as next I was interrupted by a phone call, which led me to my lap top and from there I was kept busy with some work online for the next hour.  I looked up and realized that my helper outside would probably be finishing up and since I had some cookie dough chilling in the fridge, decided to bake a batch of cookies to further reward him after his long hard work.  After all, I reflected, money isn't everything.
It didn’t take long for the scent of fresh baked cookies to make its impression.  And I found myself faced with not one hungry 9 year old, but three.  That’s some powerful magic I thought to myself, putting the plate of snicker doodles on a table on the front porch.
I paid off my young crew of workers and spent the rest of the afternoon talking to neighbors drawn by the social atmosphere seeming to emanate from my front yard.
Naturally I forgot all about the key until days later when I was doing laundry and came across the key while going through my pockets.

Come back next Saturday for another installment of the Saturday Breakfast Serial.

Story Telling

I've started writing again after an absence of about two years.  Hearth & Heart Volume 2  2017 Autumn edition is the result.  With 4 short stories, an essay, original photos and artwork, with collage throughout, this is a photo copy paper zine in half page size with 29 pages of text and illustration in 36 total pages.

You can take a look at all three editions of Hearth & Heart on Pegana Press.

The Newest Members of the Flock 2017

Welcome to the world, little hatchlings.  I'm so glad you're here.

2017 Chicks

2017 Chicks

Broody Days

Sunday 7/16

It was a little cooler today.  I made a trip into town to get some fence posts and when I got back, I found another chicken in the nest with Blossom.  I picked her up and placed her on another nest at the opposite end of the hen yard.  She obviously got the message, because she left an egg in the new location.   Hopefully that will put an end to more eggs piling up under Blossom while she tries to hatch what she already has.  Poor thing, she starts out with two and at last count had 11.

Monday  7/17

Real hot today.  The shed gets like an oven.  With the wet towels wrapped around her nesting box, she stays cool.  I can see a slight shimmering as the moisture evaporates.  She eats grain ravenously out of my hand and I leave greens for her.  Been trying to find worms or slugs, but they are hard to find right now in this weather.  Even though she has water, she doesn't seem to be drinking unless I dip my finger in and hold it to her beak.  Hopefully she's getting enough water.  And she could be getting off the nest without me seeing her do it.

Tuesday  7/18

Yesterday evening I took her off the nest and counted 13 eggs under her.  I removed one and marked the rest with an X in pencil on the end of each egg.  Luckily the one I removed was fresh and I was able to use it.  She ate some grain and drank a little water before settling back on the eggs.  Tonight I checked again and found that she had soiled the nest, some of the eggs were in bad shape.  I ended up removing one fresh one without an X and one with an X because it was completely coated in manure.  That leaves 11 eggs.  After removing the straw, I put a little fresh straw in around the eggs.  She seemed to settle in fine, but I'm not sure I want to keep doing that.  I've never handled a hen so much during broodiness.  Before, they were always isolated from the others and I just left them alone.  I've been considering fencing the shed off so the others can't get in.  It may be the best option.

Wednesday  7/19

Today is day seven.  It's been real hot every day, but this evening seemed cooler.  I decided to leave her on the nest and not check on the eggs yet.  I'm sure there are probably more than 11 eggs in there with her now.  I just don't want to keep disturbing her.

Thursday  7/20

It's been one full week that she's been on the nest.  I woke up to rain this morning and was so grateful not to have to water the garden.  Now it's hot and muggy this afternoon.  I was too busy to spend much time outdoors today, but when I checked late this afternoon, she was still on the nest and seemed to have had some water.  Since it stayed cool today until the shed was in shade, I didn't bother with the wet towels.  I'm thinking about getting some chicken wire over the door, so the others can't get in, but then she can't get out.  Not a bad thing as long as I leave plenty of food and water in there with her, and check her throughout the hot part of the day.  I'll probably do it Saturday and then check the eggs one more time.  I've never candled them, but that would be day 10, if I wanted to do it.  The soiled egg with the X that I removed on day 6 had gone bad, so it's possible there are others too.  I hate micro managing this whole process.  I never did before and everything was always okay.  I'd rather just trust nature.

Saturday 7/22  Day 10

Down to 10 eggs now.  When I checked this morning, one of the eggs was broken.  It looked strange, as if it had been hard boiled inside.

I put up wire fencing over the door, but it didn't do a bit of good.  At about 10 am I heard angry hen sounds coming from Blossom's nest box, and found that another hen had gotten in, despite the wire.  Later in the day, I heard more angry protests and found that Blossom had gotten out and was frantic to get back onto the nest.  Well, that was a nice idea, but didn't work, so I took down the wire.

Saturday 7/29  Day 17

I spent the last 3 or 4 days building a nursery under the trees in the garden near my back door.  It's been incredibly hot and so I've only been able to do a little work early in the morning before it heats up.  This evening we moved her in the twilight while she was sleepy.  We picked her up, nest box and all and put her into her new, secure location.  New coop and reinforced 1" chicken wire perimeter.  Now I can relax.  I wasn't sure she would survive the impending heat wave, forecast for the next few days.

Sunday 7/30  Day 18

She seems to be very happy in her new location.  Not stressed and still on the nest.

Monday 7/31  Day 19

Blossom spent 30 or 40 minutes wandering around the garden before settling back onto the nest.

Wednesday 8/2  Hatch day!!

I caught a glimpse of a yellow?? chick!!  I'm so excited.  I've never had anything from my flock but Barred Rocks who start out as little dark puff balls.

Thursday 8/3

I've been leaving her alone.  She got off the nest at one point this afternoon and I saw 1 robust yellow chick and 4 dark chicks.  Also one partially hatched chick that died.  I removed it, and she settled back into the nest, but I noticed she wasn't sitting very well on the still unhatched eggs.  Her attention is on the 5 chicks.  I was tempted to remove the 4 remaining eggs but left them with her.  You never know.

Friday 8/4

This morning I could see her standing over another hatching chick, so I was glad I didn't remove the eggs last night.  It turned out to be another yellow chick!  But unfortunately, she did not survive.  She got out of the egg alright, but seemed to have internal injuries and bled to death.  It was sad, but she died with her "mom" and nest mates.  After that, Blossom wanted to be done hatching eggs and left the nest, so I removed the last of them.

Out of 10 eggs, 7 hatched.  Two didn't survive.  But the 5 that did are very hardy.  Well done Blossom.  Well done chicks.

Blossom Time

I know, I know.  It's mid July.  But the Blossom I'm speaking of is a hen.

In my last post, I ended that I was hoping for another batch of chicks.  It is exactly a year ago today that the last batch began hatching out.  So Happy Birthday to Josephine and Starlight, the last surviving members of those chicks.

Two days ago, when I went to close up the hen house for the night, I was one hen shy.  I knew right where to look.  There is another shed in their yard where they like to lay eggs, and sure enough, there was Blossom sitting on eggs and acting all puffy and cranky.

But still I wasn't sure.  Because Blossom always acts broody whether she's on the roost at night, walking around the yard or laying an egg.  She's perpetually fluffed up and walks around making herself look as big as possible with her tail feathers all spread out, screeching at anyone who comes near.  It's what she does.  And I've often wondered why she's been this way for about 4 months.

She's fooled me before.  She can sit for an hour or two on a nest, but she's always on the roost at night.  It gave me hope that she hadn't joined the flock at sunset.

I felt under her.  Hmm.  Only two eggs.  That meant she'd been there most of the day, because that is the vehicle of choice for most of my flock--an old wooden box, on an upper shelf.  I usually get between 4 to 5 eggs in that one spot alone every day.

I went back to the hen house and retrieved 5 more good sized eggs from the clutch I had let build up there, and tucked them in around her.  I wanted to see if she would tuck them in under her, but she didn't seem interested.

"That's okay, Blossom.  If you're broody, that's wonderful and I will look after you when you need me.  And if you're not that's okay too.  You can have these eggs if you want, and if not, I'll take them away in the morning."  I went away for the night keeping my fingers crossed that this was really a broody hen and not just a moody one.

That was Thursday--day one.

On day two--Friday, I had some running around to do and so I was away from home until almost 2:30 that afternoon.  I walked into the shed to check on Blossom and it was like an oven in there.  I went out immediately and got a couple of bath towels still wet from the laundry and wrapped them loosely around her wooden box.  The air instantly felt cooler.  I topped off her water, gave her a handful of greens, and left her alone.

That night, she was still on the nest, so I removed the towels, which were still damp.

Day Three--Saturday, July 15th:

As midday approached it began heating up, so I went out with fresh wet towels, only to find an empty nest.  The shed was already very warm and the eggs were feeling as if they had moments before come straight out of the chicken.  I stashed the towels on a nearby tree and decided to check back in 30 minutes.  It made me smile to see Sparky perch himself on the opposite shelf to keep an eye on the wooden box/nest while Blossom was away.

I noticed there were a lot more eggs than I thought there should be, and realized after counting 11 eggs that someone was continuing to use this box when she was stepping out.  I wanted to remove a couple of them, but had no idea which were the newest eggs.  I promised myself, I would try to keep a closer eye on things between 10 and noon from now on, to discourage more laying in that box.

When I went back to check 30 minutes later, there she was snuggled in her box, so I wrapped it in wet towels again.  It's amazing how effective evaporation is at cooling the air.  It felt like a subtle, cool breeze had suddenly come into that space.

I always love this business of hens hatching out chicks.  I wouldn't dream of having an incubator.  It would take all the magic out of it.  I pray that Blossom will be a good mom.  At least that she'll last through the hatching process and hopefully that she'll want to stay with them and teach them, like Ruby did.  Flora missed that part of it last year.  She barely lasted to the end, and ran out of patience before they were more than a few days old.  I was able to coax her to sit on them at night for a few more nights, but after that she was done.  Fortunately, it was summer and the weather was warm.  They were hardy and had a safe place to snuggle together at night.  Of six, one was killed by a chicken, another by a hawk and one was dwarfed and died a couple of months later.  The final three were Josephine, Starlight and Crown.

Crown was a beauty.  I tried to find him a home, but had no takers.  Then he was blinded by Sparky and I kept him for about three months after that hoping he would somehow recover the sight in one eye which seemed undamaged.  I finally had to let him go, and felt just awful about it.  Birds have such amazing eyes that a blind bird doesn't seem to be able to adapt.  I worked with Crown and sometimes for a moment, it would seem that his eye would respond, but eventually I just had to give in and say goodbye, even though it broke my heart.

Now, here we are again.  Hatching time.  Anything can happen.  It's pure potential.  Pure magic.

Life With Rocky

It's been a sad year for me.  My last two posts featured animal friends that are no longer in my life.  Esmerelda succumbed to cancer after a long and joyous life and my heart still aches a little when I think of being without her.  More recently I had to let Rocky go.  He had gotten more dangerous and unpredictable.  His aggression was starting to have serious consequences.

Back in early Spring I was away from home for a couple of days.  When I returned the dynamic of the flock had completely changed and Rocky had been deposed as the dominant Rooster.  Sparky had suddenly asserted himself and for the first time, Rocky was completely cowed.  He was fearful and spent most of his time trying to keep a very low profile.  It was also the first time I was able to approach him without my broom and several layers of clothing.  (He's even spurred me through layers of jeans, socks and boots.)

I opened up the flock to free range to give him more room to avoid the others if he needed to and we became good friends for a while.  He would follow me around and let me pet him and no longer seemed wary of me.  At night he would put himself to roost in a shed away from the flock.  At first he stopped crowing, but over time his confidence returned bit by bit.  It made me very happy the day he began crowing again.

Eventually he worked his way back in with the flock and seemed to sort out a truce with Sparky.  He only seemed to want to be back with his family.  There was no sparring and he learned to stay out of Sparky's way, sneaking into the hen house at night only after Sparky was good and groggy.  As long as I made sure to open the door at first light in the morning, there was no problem.

As Rocky's confidence returned, so did his temper.  I think having been relegated to 2nd Rooster, and not being able to show aggression to Sparky made him suddenly remember his old "feud" with me.  A mere 3 months after embracing me as his friend and advocate/benefactor,  he began attacking me again.  He started things off by spurring me without warning one day.  Sparky came to my rescue and chased Rocky away.

From then on I had to go back to my old strategy for being in the hen yard--go armed with broom.  Sometimes even that wouldn't work, and I would find myself sometimes calling for Sparky to come and help me, which he always did.

You have to keep your sense of humor in a situation like that.  Caution and a lighthearted approach help to smooth the way.  I held no grudge against Rocky because he was doing what he thought was his job.  At night, I would go in and speak to each hen and say "well done".  And I would pet Sparky and Rocky and thank them for taking care of the flock.  Each would close their eyes as I touched them and relax.  It was, and still is one of my favorite activities of the day.

One day Rocky just seemed to snap.  He came after me determined to do damage, and that is just what he did.  He spurred my ankle to the bone and I believe he hit a vein, judging by the blood which filled my shoe.

I couldn't walk well enough to go into the hen yard for a couple of days. Mike was going in my place, but now Rocky was going after him too and even attacking Sparky, though Sparky always won.  For the first time, Mike took a good look at Rocky's spurs.  He was impressed because he'd never really seen them before.  And he agreed with me that it was time for Rocky to go.

We took him back to the farm I got him from nearly 3 years ago.  I have seen how they harvest chickens and knew they would be compassionate and humane.  I knew I could trust them with Rocky.

Mike was worried we wouldn't be able to catch Rocky.  He was picturing a violent and bloody battle, but somehow I persuaded him to trust me, and follow my lead.  I went into the hen house at the very end of the day-just as the sun was setting.  With Mike just outside, I said good night to the flock as I always did, petting Rocky last, as usual.  Then I picked him up and gently hugged him a moment, before putting him into the carrier we had ready for him.  Mike put the lid on and we placed him in the other shed for the night.  His little inquisitive crooning sounds nearly tore my heart from its moorings and I don't think I stopped crying for hours after I closed the shed door.

I have learned a great deal from my flock and I am grateful to Rocky for being a good protector, increasing my flock and most of all for providing Sparky.  But I am also grateful for the experience he gave me in our day to day interactions.

When you have a "back yard" flock as opposed to hundreds of chickens, you have the opportunity to observe and become aware of chicken culture in a way you might not otherwise notice.

Rocky was first and foremost the patriarch of the flock.  His strategy after being deposed, was to fade back, go underground for a time and then to find a way back to his family.  (Because the entire flock was his family!)  He didn't care about being top rooster once Sparky had the job.  His only goal was to be with his family.  And he made concessions and adjustments, even risking serious injury, to make sure that happened.  I watched all of this unfold over these last 4 months, and I find it remarkable how complex a flock can be.

For instance they know their names.  Not only do they know their own personal names, (no surprise to me since they told me their names in the beginning), but they also know the others by name.

As in any family there are close relationships and there are rivalries.  After not seeing Rocky for a whole day, Tricksy asked me where he was.  I told her that he had to leave.  That it was his time to move on.  I heard "Oh" in my mind as she walked away, but her response triggered in me a loneliness and I wasn't sure if it was hers or mine.  Later when I was thinking about it, I realized that of course Tricksy would be the one to ask about Rocky.  She was closer to him than any of the others.  Always attentive when he wasn't feeling well or when he was injured.  When sleeping, he would bury his head in her wing as often as in his own.

Rocky was born old, it seems (or should I say hatched).  Although he seemed full grown, he didn't yet have his spurs when he came to us and we watched him grow larger and larger still, until we thought he'd never stop growing.  Mike and I used to joke about having a giant rooster towering over us in the yard.  Thank God it didn't come to that!!  But it didn't take him long to develop a stiffness in his wings, and he often reminded me of an old feller with his "trick" wing.  It would get stuck up in the air sometimes when he'd fly out of the hen house in the morning, and if I was around to see it happen, I would help him release it with energy work in a hands off approach.

In Bill Mollison's permaculture system, chickens are a zone 2 animal.  Meaning you may end up visiting  that area about twice a day.  I do think of the hen yard as zone 2, because it must be separate from zone 1 which is home to the garden.  But I easily visit more than twice a day on some days.  Especially when the weather warms up and the growing season begins.  That's where the action is.  Everything is going on there.  There is soil being created, there is a language to be learned, and there are eggs to be found.  Out of 8 hens, Ruby, Tricksy and Fanny are 3 years old, and Ruby's brood (Blossom, Flora and Yarrow) are 1 1/2 years old, with the other two being just 11 months now.  I feel very rich indeed, if I get 6 eggs in a day, but I average about 4 per day.

Today was a rare, rich day though.  I found 3 eggs in the shed, and then I found a new nest in the hen house with three large eggs in it.  Beautiful and clean, I nearly collected them and then I suddenly changed my mind.  It was last year at this time, and in almost the same location that Flora went broody.  I decided to see if we could increase the flock.  So that's where we're at now.

Winter Rooster

Rocky and Daughter

We woke up to the merest skiff of snow covering the land.  I went out with my camera to record the contrast on the land shown by this rare occurrence and couldn't resist taking this shot of my original rooster, Rocky who is the patriarch of the flock.  He always, always keeps an eye on me.

We got along just fine after I brought him home about a year and a half ago.  He was nearly full grown, and stuck close to the matriarch of the flock, Ruby.  But he never quite trusted me.  Then one day I tripped over him when I was running to untangle the neighbor's cat from a temporary fence I was constructing in the hen yard.  I was instantly viewed as a mortal enemy and combat ensued.  I have since learned to make my trips to the flock with my trusty broom in hand.

Never the less, it is thanks to Rocky that the flock has been kept safe, and that it has increased.  He and Ruby gave us 4 hens and Sparky.  (Sparky is my teddy bear of a rooster and even now that he is bigger than Rocky, I never have to worry about him.  In fact, I suspect he has run interference a time or two for me by distracting Rocky).

I love this photo because it shows Rocky in his true light.  A devoted patriarch and protector of the flock.