Category Archives: Animal Husbandry

May 1, 2013 · 6:42 pm

Those Waskely Wabbits–Raising rabbits

Rabbits are so cuddly!

Rabbits seemed like a quiet and easy addition to the backyard barnyard. Unfortunately, we weren’t quite prepared when the first two rabbits arrived. A cage was quickly set up over the dog house. A big mistake! It was difficult to clean, not being on the ground, and the dogs barking caused stress in the poor rabbits. Before we knew it, one rabbit had babies. And that was another problem. Some froze with the cold as the mother hadn’t made a nest with her fur, others died of starvation, the mom being too stressed to care for them properly, and one poor little bunny rolled out of the cage into the waiting dog’s mouth. Talk about feeling horrible. We were nearly ready to throw in the towel over rabbits but persevered.

The first pen, not easy to clean at all!

The next move was to individual pens with nesting boxes for the expectant mothers. This was the way to go, or so said the reference book about rabbits. However, it didn’t work out quite like promised. Again, the pens were hard to keep clean, and the mother rabbits sometimes didn’t have their babies in the nesting boxes, so again there were frozen and undernourished bunnies.

Happy rabbits in their section by the goats.

So the rabbits were moved in with the goats. This was much more to their liking. The back half of the goat corral was sealed off partially, which allowed for a cool and somewhat dark area. The rabbits flourished. Before I knew it, there were bunnies all over the place. One count was over 30 baby bunnies, not counting adult rabbits. There were far fewer health problems as the rabbits pooped and peed on the ground. Mother rabbits tunneled down and built their own nests, warm and dark and safe. The problem then became what to do with so many cute and cuddly creatures. We learned it doesn’t pay to try to improve on Mother Nature even if the backyard barnyard book says so.

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Filed under Animal Husbandry

Tagged as homesteading, Pets, rabbit pens, raising rabbits

April 30, 2013 · 2:10 pm

So why did the chicken cross the road?

Why did the chicken cross the road?

I expect to escape from being eaten.

My husband likes to reminisce sometimes about how when he was young, and there wasn’t enough for his ten brothers and sisters and him to eat. Being determined not to go hungry, he would do some chicken hunting. Most of the chickens he hunted were from his Tio Tomas (Uncle Tom) and boy did they sure taste good. He tells this story at least once a month, mostly to impress upon our son the sinfulness of wasting food, especially chicken. Of course, the story ends with him being caught by Tio Tomas and receiving the whipping of a lifetime.

Our current enclosure for ducks, chickens, and quails

Chickens were one of the first animals we incorporated into our mini-farm. They don’t need fancy housing, they can forage for their own food, lay eggs, and can be eaten.

Most of the chickens were little red hens, just like the story. But one hen of our hens was brown and white speckled, and that made all the difference. We named her Penny, like in Henny Penny and the sky is falling down. Not one of the red hens liked her. They pecked her. They chased her away from the feed and water. They wouldn’t let her sleep on the roost. Just like a bunch of old biddies. So she became a bit of a loner, doing her own thing.

Penny is the light colored hen in the back.

This changed when Rocky the rooster came along. He was a spare rooster, as there was already Blackie the rooster to do the morning wake up call and ruffle the hens and make the egg announcements to the world. So Rocky and Penny were put together to keep each other company. Both being outcasts, they joined forces. Penny started laying eggs again. Rocky did his husbandly duties as any good rooster should.

But the day came when Rocky went into the soup pot. A spare rooster, after all, is redundant. Penny went into a deep depression. No kidding. She wouldn’t eat, she stopped laying eggs again, and she took shelter in a hollow pipe and wouldn’t come out. Within a week she was dead. She died of a broken heart. Chickens do have feelings. Love is not unique to humans.

Another one of our red hens named Jovencita is our pride and joy. She is the best broody hen we have. Last year she hatched groups of chicks four times, although the last bunch died of groopers, minuscule red bugs that swarmed their little lungs. Anyway, her first batch was doing well, when all of a sudden they developed itchy sores. Would you believe it, chicken pox? The feed was fine, the area and water were clean, so how could these poor little things get sick? After doing some research in my backyard farm animal guidebook, I discovered that this type of disease could be transmitted from turkeys. There weren’t any turkeys in our yard, but the neighbor down the road had some. I suppose a wild bird stopped at the turkey guy’s feed spot and had breakfast, then headed to our feed place for lunch, unwittingly carrying the disease. So 4 out of 5 chicks died within two days, awful painful itching deaths.

The color of the chicks seems to be dependent on the color of the rooster. These are Jovencita’s chicks to Blackie, the rooster.

One little rooster managed to survive but was horribly scarred. We named him Feo (Ugly), cuz he sure was ugly with bald patches and bumps. Being the only chick left, he had the run of the joint. Jovencita, having lost her brood, went broody again shortly after that, so Feo was left to his own devices.

Feo was fearless. He snatched food from right under the noses of the dogs. He swerved and ran to avoid pecking from the other chickens. He drank from the cat’s own water dish. We came to admire his pluck and courage. Nothing phased him. We could shoo him back into the wired enclosure, and 2 minutes later he was back out, happily strutting about. I guess having survived chicken pox he thought he was invincible.

At the time, all the chickens were kept in our walled backyard and mostly allowed to forage in the garden. But the grass is always greener they say and Feo got it into his head that there would be more succulent eats outside the fence. As he was undersized as well, he was able to slip between the gate bars into the wide blue yonder. One day, quick as a wink, as he was bravely venturing out to explore new worlds, a long, smooth, silver snake came out from under the sidewalk and gobbled him up. The race does not go to the brave, but to the swift.

Gringa, the hen

Our latest acquisition is a gringa hen, so named because this particular type of chicken does not have feathers on its scrawny neck. It is, therefore, a “redneck” chicken. Get it? Anyway, she isn’t accepted into the established chicken society, being different and all. She waits her turn at the food dish. First, the rooster and his ladies eat. Then the broody hens and her chicks eat. Then Mr. & Mrs. Muscovy eat with their ducklings. Then the codornices (quail) eat. Finally, la gringa gets her chance. Discrimination is not confined to humans.

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Filed under Animal Husbandry

Tagged as Chicken, chicken culture, homesteading, Livestock, Poultry, raising chicken, Rooster

April 25, 2013 · 2:05 pm

Mr. & Mrs. Muscovy

Mr & Mrs. Muscovy

I had my heart set on getting some ducks for our mini-ranch. What I was hoping for were Muscovy ducks. Having done a little research, I found that these ducks were native to Mexico, therefore, did not require as much water as other types of ducks, roosted and behaved more like chickens and didn’t quack. But we couldn’t find any.

One day, we saw a sign that said ducks for sale (se venden patos) and went to investigate. An elderly, invalid couple, had some cages and ducks they were trying to sell. We came to an agreement on a pair of white ducks, and my husband went for the cage to bring them home. When he came back for them, the elderly wife asked my husband to help her bath her old wheel-chair bound husband. My husband assured her that as soon as he got the ducks home, he’d be back to help her. Needless to say, he didn’t return. Bathing the previous owner wasn’t part of the deal for the ducks.

I wasn’t too pleased with these ducks. They made a lot of noise and scandalized the chickens. But they were great toasted over an open flame with a beer, parsley, and butter sauce. Finger licken’ good!

These little guys drove us quackers!

So then, we thought to try some baby ducks. We bought three small ones from a place in town. I was still hoping for those Muscovy ducks, but when we asked the attendant what types of ducks they were, he said, “duh, ducks.” which didn’t really answer the question. So sure enough, when they grew, they became duh, ducks. Of course, we had to make a small moat for them to swim in. My husband used an old tire as the mold, then cemented its sides for easy egress and exit. And when they ducks were big enough, we ate them, still unsure what sort of ducks they were.

Then, out of the blue, the cow-barn guy, our neighbor, had a pair of Muscovy ducks. I bullied my husband into getting the pair. Success at last! However, there were some problems. They are more aggressive than other types of ducks and take 35 days to hatch their eggs rather than 21, and they aren’t really cute. Both the male and female have red carbuncles that form a mask over their eyes. But a duck is a duck is a duck, right? The sound factor though was much improved. Mr. Muscovy hissed when disturbed, and Mrs. Muscovy sang, somewhat like a chicken after an egg is laid, soft and melodious.

The first year, Mrs. Muscovy, after several weeks of noisy 5 am copulation with Mr. Muscovy, presented us with 9 ducklings. They were as cute as can be, yellow and black downy ducklings. And they grew up fat and happy, chasing flies and eating other insects and grains. They wouldn’t leave the compound, even when we attempted to shoo them out for spring cleaning and made no other attempts at escape. One night, the rains converted our backyard into a pond, much to the ducklings’ delight. My son and I waded out in the middle of the night to rescue them as even the hardiest duckling will tire and drown after too much of a good time swimming about.

Mrs. Muscovy and her brood. Yes, the ducklings are kinda neon yellow fluff.

Soon enough we had 9 large ducks (11 with the Mr. & Mrs.), and my husband traded them all for 2 bridles for the horses. Overall a good deal, however, I was upset he didn’t save even one other breeder duck for Mr. Muscovy to start his harem.

Year two, presented 13 ducklings, however, the very first day out of the nest, Mrs. Muscovy accidentally stepped on the littlest one in all the hubbub and broke its neck. Two days later, one chick disappeared. And then another. We finally fingered the culprit, a large rat (about groundhog size) that had taken up residence under the wood pile. After a few days of moving the woodpile hither and yon, we finally convinced it to leave. We lost another duck to Snowy the dog and ate 2 or 3 ourselves. The rest we sold when Mrs. Muscovy hatched her new bevy of 14 ducklings, now 13.

Flavor-wise, the Muscovy ducks have a stronger flavor than other ducks we have eaten. My mom sent me a book about preparing wild game that has a few recipes I want to try and a few tricks to reduce the gamey taste. But as the ducklings are still pint-size, I expect that won’t be until after the rainy season at least.

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