Renting with Chickens

Flock-looking-upI’ve been a renter all my adult life. This last place, owned by a friend, has been home for the past 10 years. It has been in this stretch of years that I acquired my chickens. As time has gone by the flock has ebbed and flowed peaking at thirteen. Currently I have six hens.

I’ve been feeling the restless stirring of a move in the back recesses of my mind, but didn’t really know what that would look like, or when it would come about. However, through a set of circumstances beyond my control (and foreseeable knowledge), that time is now. Although it’s taking me by surprise and has me scrambling more than just a little, when the dust settles, it will all be good.

However, it’s opened my eyes to the plight of renters with chickens, which isn’t something I’ve thought about before. Finding a rental that will allow my hens (and cat) to tag along has been tough. More than tough, pretty much impossible. I live in a suburb of Portland, Oregon: home of green people, organic lovers, and chicken owners. Heck, even goats are allowed in the city limits. We’re a chicken hugging tribe. At least that was my belief, until I tried to find a new chicken-hugging landlord.

Needless to say, it’s been a long and stressful two months. In the end, I’m moving outside the city where I’ll be renting a property shared by some goats (and their humans). Although there are many things about this place that are nearly perfect, it’s not my ideal situation. I’d hoped to stay in the city, not live 30 minutes out. But for now, I’m headed out (to what feels like the STICKS) where I will re-group and (hopefully) be back to the city soon, this time as a home owner (or tiny house builder or something) with my rag- tag caravan of animals tagging along behind.

I’m not sure how many chicken owners are out there that are also renters. I’m sure I can’t be completely unique, even if I’m part of a minority. So for those of you out there who could someday be in this same position, here are some things I’ve considered in this last 60 days:

  1. Pay attention to the zoning laws. This is a no-brainer, I know, but when you’re in a metro area, one street to the next might be a different town and therefore different laws. For instance, Portland proper will only allow 3 hens without a permit. (With a $31 one-time fee you can apply to have more chickens, but you also have to get permission from all neighbors within 150 feet.) Where I live, just a few blocks over, we can have as many as we want, even roosters. In Milwaukie, just down the street a ways, there’s a limit of 50. I’ve been looking at places in all these areas and more.

(By the way, even if the town allows, make sure you’re not moving into an HOA that won’t let you bring your chickens. Do your research. It will save you a lot of trouble later.)

  1. Build portable. Yes, yes, I know. This also goes without saying. Because I’ve lived where there’s no limit to the number of hens I have, and because I didn’t know what I was doing when I built my coop, and because I didn’t follow any plans, I, um, sort of overbuilt. (Those adorable city coops that hold three cozy little hens? Yes, I love them. That is NOT, however, what I have.)fall-coop

Oh, and because I didn’t know what I was doing, I overcompensated with my lack of skill, planning and knowledge with boxes of screws. So, it’s not really coming apart. There’s no way I could practically move it. This, of course, presents another real problem: I finally found a place my hens can go, but the coop can’t come with us. Drat!

  1. Network like crazy. Landlords seem to be more open to out-of-the-ordinary ideas if they have a personal connection to you. I’m headed out to the country (which I found with a personal connection) to a spacious acreage already containing goats, but no chickens. Through talking to the landlords-to-be and finding out we actually have THREE people in common, suddenly the door swung wide open for a flock of hens to move out with me. It really is who you know sometimes. Thankfully I know some keepers.

The girls like the new digs

  1. Move your flock at night. Mine aren’t moved yet (remember I have the coop issue to deal with). But once I get their new space set up, I will come fetch them with a big box, at night, when they’re already groggy and a bit disoriented and mostly blind. The theory behind this is that they will wake up in the morning somewhere new and be happier about it than if they arrived during the day. We shall see about this and I will most definitely keep you posted. I’m anticipating them being a bit mouthy, regardless. They aren’t too keen on change. (Me, neither, so I sympathize with them.)

In the meantime, my friend has graciously allowed the hens to stay for a while longer where they’ve lived their whole life. Her son will take care of them and I’ll check in on them weekly.

  1. Last but not least, having as much lead time as possible to find your new digs will help. The Portland area is a brutal place to find a rental even without the extra hassle of chickens. I read a report last week that said Portland is the second tightest rental market in the whole nation right now, thanks to the 75,000 new folks that moved in during 2013 (I hope they came because of the chickens). But regardless of where you live, moving hens to a new rental is a bit more complicated than a hen-less move. It might take some time (or creative solutions) to get it all to work out.

It’s been a tough two months for sure. I’m moving my household, but the blog will continue on. The next month or so might be a bit harried, but I’ll be back on track before too long.

I’m curious: are there any chicken owning renters out there? If so, what have you experienced in the rental scene? Have you had trouble finding a place to live with hens in tow? Do you have other suggestions to add?

 

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Posted in Chickens | Tagged , , , , , | 7 Comments

Free Seed-Saver Envelope Download

Free Seed Packet Download for saving your own seeds | City Girl FarmingIt’s that time again…seed saving time. If you don’t already save your own seeds, it’s not too late to start. And it’s easy to do. (You can find out more here.)

If you already save your seeds, but get tired of them looking all messy and unorganized in baggies with masking tape labels, I’ve got the solution for you.

Seed Packet Small

This past week, when I was sick of looking at my random collection of baggies, I sat down and designed an envelope for my seeds. Simply print up, cut out and glue a couple of the edges down. Easy. And free.

You can download the full size .pdf here.

Enjoy your collecting.

EnvelopeCloseup

Posted in D.I.Y., Gardening | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Jessica’s Swollen Abdomen

Jessica Ruler of the RoostI first noticed Jessica’s swollen abdomen the beginning of July. It felt like a water balloon filled taut, about to burst. Jessica didn’t show any signs of being sick, though. She was still eating, drinking, walking and running, chatting with me. All the normal chicken behavior of a friendly, social hen. I’d never had noticed if I hadn’t picked Jess up and encountered her big water balloon belly with my hand. WHOA.

I seriously doubted Jessica was egg bound. She showed no other signs (although her swollen abdomen was very similar to Harriet’s when Harriet was egg bound). So, I did what I often do when the girls  have me stumped, and I tried  to find a reason for her water weight gain via research.

A possible ailment could be that she got a bit of egg-stuff stuck inside her somewhere and it was creating an infection. Some advice said to drain it, others said to leave it. I decided to leave it until the poor girl looked like she was saddle sore, waddling like a pigeon toed duck, and having a hard time jumping up onto things. She was still eating, drinking, happy, but I could tell she wasn’t very comfortable. So, I decided to try to drain it.

I don’t know if any of you ever call local vets and ask for weird items like syringes and catheters? Um, yea. It didn’t go over so well….

“Excuse me? You want what? Do you have any experience with this? Do you have any training?”

Well, I watched a YouTube video.

“We can’t sell you this sort of thing. We suggest you take your hen to a vet who specializes in birds.”

Yea, well, that’s not going to happen. Besides, how hard can it be?

Thankfully I DO have a vet friend, although she’s a cat vet, who has helped me with Peep’s bumblefoot surgery and given me prescriptions when Harriet sounded like Darth Vader. I texted her for the supplies, and told me to swing by clinic, pick up said supplies, and bring them to her house (with Jessica) so she could teach me how to use them.FirstAidSupplies

It really IS a simple procedure, although I’ve never stuck a needle into the backside of a hen before. (It slid in like butter on a hot knife). Jessica didn’t mind. We  drained off 2 ounces of fluid that looked like a green smoothie (which is unfortunate since I drink green smoothies several times per week). My vet friend said she’s never seen fluid like that come out of an animal. She took a picture and showed it to her chicken vet friend who said the same thing. Mystery fluid.

Syringe

For three days straight,  I pulled fluid out of Jessica’s swollen belly. She was very cooperative. I think it was definitely one of those times when “This hurts me more than it hurts you” was actually true. But we got by. After removing more than three cups of faux-green-smoothie, she was able to run and jump easier than when she was slinging that volume along behind her.

(For those of you that don’t know–like I didn’t–the proper color of this fluid should be more like ginger ale, not sludgy thick green vegetables.)

JessTowel

PullingFluid JessTowel2

Fluid-after

To be on the safe side, I started diffusing On Guard essential oil in the coop (for killing germs/bugs growing inside her and to strengthen immunity). I set up the  diffuser in a nest box and blew it in on flock at night (I figured since it’s not toxic it wouldn’t hurt to dose everyone). I’m not sure if this contributed, but the mass stopped re-filling with fluid. It’s still there, but not growing (or if it’s growing, it’s very slow). And Jessica is happy as a chicken three cups lighter.

The chicken vet, based solely on photos from the phone, suspects that Jessica might have some kind of cancer. My surgical oncologist friend (with human patients), suspects something like a burst organ (unsure of which organs chickens have–she suggested gall bladder or spleen).

Regardless, Jessica is happy and seemingly doing well.  It’s been two months now and she’s not showing any signs of slowing down, although I suspect she will slow down, simply because she’s over  four years old and there’s a growth on her belly that won’t completely go away.

But for today, Jessica is living the good chicken life and that’s a reason to cheer.

 

Posted in Bees, Chickens | 2 Comments

How to Compost (and Why)

jordan_with_dirtFor a very long time, becoming a “Composter” was NOT on my list of things to do. When I finally gave in, I did it because I felt pressure to ‘do the right thing’. But I did it dragging my feet. I had visions of a smelly, steamy, fly infested heap of rotting grossness and I didn’t want to deal with it.

Oh, how overjoyed I was to find my stereotypes about composting to be (mostly) unfounded. I’ve come full circle in my thoughts and feelings towards composting over the years. Now, it’s one of my favorite things!

I mean, for one thing, where can you literally dump in trash and have it turn into luscious food for the plants that will in turn feed you? How awesome is it to throw in the gallons and buckets and mounds of chicken poo into  a bin, stir it with leaves and grass and vegetable scraps and have it turn into something that looks and smells good? Something that you can actually stick your bare hands in, put up to your nose, inhale deeply and actually appreciate the scent!

It thrills me every year when I am getting my gardens ready to skip running to the nursery for bags of overpriced nutrients because I’ve made them myself instead! I love telling people how the chickens and I make our own dirt! By the wheelbarrow full! I’m averaging around 20 heaping wheelbarrows full per year. Dark, beautiful dirt. I feed the earth and it feeds me.

And, it teaches a new generation the value of turning your trash into treasure. I hear it all the time. Like when 11-year-old Jake dumps a wheelbarrow full of freshly made dirt into the garden and says, “That’s beautiful dirt, look at it!”

And when 14-year-old Jordan says, “You know, I just realized something. We don’t throw any food away. We either feed it to the dog, the chickens or the compost bin.”

Yes! We’re part of a cycle that is running like it was intended (at least in this area). We take from the earth, give back to the earth, and all grow healthier together.

And we do it without chemicals. Without added expenses (you can even build your own compost bins from free pallets if you want). It saves on the garbage bill and from filling the landfills with things we can actually recycle back into the land and use. The food we grow from compost is nutrient dense and requires less watering.CompostBins

And it’s  fun! I’ve gotten into the habit of turning my compost with a snow shovel. When the chickens see me pick up that shovel, they come running, ready to gobble up any worms I surface with my turning. We all have a great time.chicken-dirt-wheelbarrow

I’ve learned that compost bin will churn out dirt with or without  my help. If I help, it turns faster. But if I neglect it, I am still rewarded with rich treasure.

If you don’t compost, I encourage you to try it. NOW is actually a great time to get started, as there are lots of scraps from the garden to throw away, and the fall leaves are soon to be falling from the trees. Both things are great for the compost pile.

Plus, it’s easy to start.  Just grab yourself a compost bin, or make one yourself. Fill it with your grass clippings, leaves, food scraps, chicken poo, chicken bedding, etc. (here’s a list of what to avoid composting).

Alternate your layers. For example, if you throw in a bunch of juicy beet skins and wet rusty lettuce, add a layer of straw or dried leaves next. This will help keep the fly population uninterested in what you’re doing, and virtually illuminate the smell. (Here’s a few more smell-reducing tips, too.)

Occasionally stir the contents (which, as I’ve said, is optional and probably not the best advice to give, but it’s true. I found it out by experience).

I actually have two bins and I fill one up before I move to the next so that they are at different stages of ‘done-ness’. Depending on what you’ve put in your compost bins, how often you stir it, how wet or dry it is, it will take 6-12 months to turn into useable materials for your garden spaces.

Dumpster Divers

Dumpster Divers

When I finally unpack the treasure I’ve been allowing to transform, I feel like a kid at a party! Mounds and mounds of dark brown, earthy smelling dirt. For free. It feels so very satisfying! And even after years of doing it, the feeling never gets old!

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A New Slice on Zucchini

I got a new gadget this week. It just so happens that this new purchase completely changes the playing field for both the overabundance of zucchini growing right now, and my gluten free lifestyle. Win. Win. I love it when I can spend less than 10 bucks and have my life improved!

The new liberating object? A julienne peeler for $8.99, just like this one!

I’ve been wanting to try vegetable noodles for some time now. I just haven’t gotten around to it. But the other day, while grocery shopping, someone was doing a demonstration. Less than a  .003 second and I was hooked (and truly, no demo is needed, it’s just like peeling a carrot…only the little ‘teeth’ slice the peels into skinny strings).

I rushed home with my new toy and broke out the zucchini. Ahhhh. Beautiful. Lovely. Perfect.Slicing Zucchini

Zuke Noodles

I whipped up some sauce with onions, garlic, mushrooms, basil and spinach. Mmmm.

ZukeSpag

Dinner, quick. A big bowl of vegetables. ONLY vegetables. Nothing else. This puts a whole new twist on zucchini dishes!

You’re now feeling inspired yourself, aren’t you? Yep. So go eat your vegetables. Enjoy!

PS If you’d like more zucchini recipes, check out here and here for about 20 more ideas.

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Do Chickens Get PTSD?

Do Chickens get PTSD?

Until last week, I never thought to ask myself this question. My hens live an idyllic life filled with a spacious, secluded backyard lined with high fences, shrubs to rest under, trees to shade the coop, a big mud hole I regularly fill with water (on hot days), and enough interesting places to explore to keep them sufficiently entertained.Watering Hole

My hens are a happy lot. If I were a chicken, I’d want to live in my backyard, too. It’s a stress-free, great place to live.

At least it was until last Thursday. That was the day a friend came over to play with one of the kids and left the chicken gate open (this is the fence I built between the ‘dog yard’ and the ‘chicken yard’ to keep everyone safe and allow both sides to have unlimited recess time).

I was out on the deck (on the 2nd story of the house) when I heard the commotion. I knew instantly it wasn’t good. Shoving  shoes on, I ran out to the chicken yard as fast as I could. There I saw the chicken gate wide open and Curly (one of the kid’s teenage dog) having a hay day with the hens. Feathers were flying through the air, only one hen in my sight, and Curly racing and barking in circles.

I ran and scooped up Hattie, the only bird I could see. She acted drunk, unsteady, in shock. Curly gleefully raced around the yard, barking, searching for chickens, stirring up the neighbors two small dogs into a frenzy behind their fence, barking along with her.

I called for back up, yelling for kids to corral Curly and help me find the chickens.  I found Olivia under the Rhododendron bush. She wore the same dazed look as Hattie. I gathered her up with my free arm and stuck her and Hattie into the coop, out of danger.

Feathers puffed in the wind from random locations all over the  chicken yard. The feathers the strawberry blonde color of Harriet, my most favored hen.  I tried not to panic. Rounding the corner of the coop, I found Harriet covered in dog slobber, missing some tail, and completely disoriented. I gathered her up and gently deposited her into the coop.Feathers

Three hens. Three to go. By this time I had a back up kids helping look for the MIA chickens. We looked high and  low. We looked  in the neighboring yards. Up in trees. Under every structure, tree, shrub and plant. No chickens to be found. One of the kids re-counted hens in the coop and found Jessica. Her black feathers blended her into the darkness of the coop and I’d missed her the first time through. She found the safety of the coop all on her own.

That just left Goldie and Ruby. They, too, matched the piles of feathers strewn about the yard. And they were nowhere to be found. I braced myself for bad news. Finally a kid called out that he’d  found a chicken in the dog side of the yard. I went over and my heart dropped. Goldie laid there, motionless, on her side, covered with leaves. I gently reached down to pick  her up and she jumped up, squawking! She was ALIVE! Scrambling, Goldie  desperately tried to climb the tree she’d hidden under. I caught up with her and tried to calm her down as I walked her to the coop.

Another careful examination of the coop (going in the side door this time) revealed Ruby, squished under a beam in a tiny space in the far back corner of the coop. She, too, looked to be dead. But she wasn’t! (I can’t believe the small space she’d smashed herself into!)

All the hens were understandably stressed and in shock so it was hard to tell if any were truly hurt. I didn’t see any blood. That was a good sign.  But I worried about damage on the inside. Several of them were so traumatized they stayed crouched on the coop floor, refusing to jump up onto a roost for the night.

I found some scraps of material and applied several drops of lavender essential oil, hanging them randomly in the coop to help calm the girls down for the night. And we all went to bed, exhausted.

The next day, I took stock of the damage. Harriet, Goldie and Ruby were missing feathers, but that seemed to be the worst of it. All of them still acted shell shocked. Some of them refused to come out of the coop. The others huddled around me, jumpy and skittish. And the dogs, remembering the fun from the day before, carried on from the other side of the fence, whining and barking to be allowed in.

I decided to cut a tarp into strips and  attach it to the bottom 2 feet of the fence. Since the offending dogs were short, as were the chickens, I hoped that blocking them from view of the other would help simmer things down.

Jessica on her tip toes, trying to see over the new tarp.

Jessica on her tip toes, trying to see over the new tarp.

It worked.

It took four  days for the hens to return to normal. Until then, if a blade of grass blew crooked, they’d head for cover. If sweet little  song birds chirped, they’d freeze, craning their necks, listening for danger. But on day four, I walked out and found them wandering freely around the yard, seemingly unafraid.

If  chickens get PTSD, it’s a very short-term affair requiring little to no counseling. Yet I find myself stopping to listen through the window for sounds of foul play throughout the day. I walk out to check on them a little more often. I sit out  in the chicken yard longer than I used to. Each day, I relax a little more, but not as easily as the chickens.

Today, I was gifted with my first egg since the incident. Thank you, girls. Life is back to it’s normal idyllic space in the backyard. I think I will breathe a little deeper and go pour myself a big glass of iced tea.

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Chickens in Print

Boy! It’s been a hopping month in the magazine department. First, I was featured in From Scratch Magazine (EIGHT WHOLE PAGES). If you guys aren’t familiar with the magazine, it’s an awesome publication that is focused on sustainable living. It’s full of great information that you’ll probably really love. Not only that, it’s FREE. . What’s not to love about that? Check it out here:FromScratch

(And if you’re interested in the article about me and the girls, it starts on page 100.)

Then, some of my artwork (chicken, of course) made it to the front cover of Lee Magazine (for the smart, savvy Alabama woman) this month as well. I’d never heard of this publication (largely since I am not, nor do I know any Alabama women). But I’d say they’re smart indeed if they’re raising chickens!

LeeMagOf course the girls help in keeping me humble as I daily wipe chicken poo off my feet just like the rest of the backyard chicken owners in the world.

Stay cool everyone!

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