Roosting and other crap

You would think that chickens would be consistent in their roosting behavior, but guess again.

When the juvenile roosters first arrived, I had them contained in a modified horse stall. Netting covered any open spaces to keep predators out and the chickens in. The "chicken stall" includes two 10 foot-plus pipes at window height to serve as perches. For the first couple months, everyone would cozy up on the perches.

One by one flock dynamics would force birds out, at which point the outcasts started roosting in the rafters and on the stall dividers. Not too bad if it's one or two birds, but now that over half of the flock have gone for the penthouse sleeping arrangements their nightly bathroom habits have spilled over into the adjoining stalls, stained the tops of the stall dividers, and fallen into the aisle way. One poor bird has been ostracized to the point where it roosts separately from the others - over the doorway to my tack room. Which means there is now a growing deposit of crap right where I walk to retrieve my morning Pepsi from the refrigerator next to my saddles. Try dodging that in dress heels some time.

There is some entertainment and wonderment value in all of this. Lately the 3-4 birds that roost on the stall dividers have been having their own tiffs, so one poor sucker who wants to maintain proximity to the others finds himself balancing on a section of 2x8 framing on the barn wall. Of course, it's a wall, so he doesn't have the room to properly balance. Instead he spends the night with one leg outstretched and the other flexed, like a sleeping flamingo with a foot rest. How he maintains that balance all night long I have no idea. Another poor fool will occasionally find himself wedged in the eave opening in an effort to find a sleeping spot - "hunkered down", but 12 feet in the air, balancing on the sheet metal skin of the building.

However, I must say the most curious of avian sleeping arrangements happened this past week, where one bird was in the stall, three were on the stall divider, one was on the wall, and the last bird was sitting on the netting covering the top of the stall. This last fellow looked like he was levitating the way the netting blended into the shadows cast by the barn lights.

These chickens are an endless source of comic relief if not anything else. 

Happiness is a frolicking horse

And so the New Year has come, I'm back to my job and a new cycle of work. But I'm also back to my horses.

The mare has healed from her wounds, and other than a criss-cross of hairless lines on her legs one wouldn't know of the trauma she's been through. Luckily she's not showing signs of lameness as she gallops through the pasture, but I'm not sure if she's the lucky one or me; we'll decide that when I start legging her up again to get back in training.

The old man on the other hand is presenting his own set of challenges these days. I'm afraid his age and chronic illness are catching up to him. He dropped weight over the holidays and hasn't put it back on yet though he's back to a more regular feeding schedule. Blood work by the vet came back clean, so I take whatever comfort I can from that.

When I retired the old boy two years ago from a university teaching herd I knew his days were limited. My objective was to give him a comfortable home after his years of service in their lesson and training program. Between the arthritis in his knees and the melanoma tumors (a condition that roughly 95% of grey horses in this part of the world will experience) I gave the old boy 2-3 more years; it's now been about two and a half.

Now I play the watch-and-wait game. I'm tinkering with his feed to try to put the weight back on, trying to pack in as many calories as I can while he's in the barn. When I turn him out on the winter pasture for a few hours every day, I watch to see how he responds to the opportunity. The other horses react like kids who realized the candy store door was left wide open and unattended. Lately he still shows the interest, but the enthusiasm is not there.

I'd feel better if he would let loose with a good run and buck like he did a month ago. For now I'll interpret his nickers, pricked ears, and brief spells of floating trot as the sign that all is as well as it can be.