Having a small backyard flock of urban chickens seems like such a normal, everyday thing for me now that I haven’t really posted a lot about “the girls”. But some of my readers have asked that I share more stories on the blog about the latest chic news. Now that I think of it, there is usually some funny urban chicken musing I have to share…
Around 7:30 or 8:00, they usually hear me doing something in the house and decide they should make some noise outside. Just a friendly reminder that they are ready and waiting for any/all kitchen scraps I might have from dinner the night before. Sometimes I don’t have any leftovers, but I still hop outside for a few minutes to share fresh lettuce from the garden, from which they are still banned from, or some scratch, a mixture of dried corn and grains. The banning of the chickens can be relived here, in case you missed it. (I am still amazed at how many veggies have popped up without their daily gobbling of my freshly planted seeds…)
Also around this time, the girls start thinking about laying some eggs. I went ahead and rearranged the inside of the hen house to allow for two nesting boxes. Usually you only need one per 4 hens, but I didn’t want them to get antsy waiting for their turn in the egg-laying queue. Unfortunately, they haven’t quite figured out that they can lay in the “other” box. The “other” box is defined as the box without the fake egg in it. I can move the egg from one box to another, but they consistently lay only in the one with the fake egg. Their brains are the size of an acorn, so I guess I shouldn’t expect so much of them. I should just suck it up and get another fake egg.
I have this nice little view from my living room window. After the morning routine of throwing in some scratch and making sure they had enough water for the day, I was grabbing my purse inside when I heard a ruckus. I peaked outside and watched Winnie chase poor Hazel around and around the feeder. She pinned her a couple times and proceeded to sit on her. The bullying stopped after a minute or so, but then Pearl felt she needed to make it clear to Winnie that she was the top bully, and maybe Winne shouldn’t get so high and mighty. More chasing around the feeder, Pearl pinning Winnie onto the floor, and it all blew over.

Those chickens need tough love.
You want me to talk to them? I could ensure that you wouldn’t be bothered by the morning “scuffles” anymore.
And, of course, you’d save the money you were going to spend on that additional fake egg.
Just an idea. Let me know.
Another urban chicken blog – yay! You can put a white golf ball in the other nest box. I’ve used them in the past and apparently they’re not smart enough to tell the difference.
Great blog – I’ll be back again.