The Problem with "Learning the Hard Way"

is that sometimes it results in death.  Hopefully not yours (although sometimes that the case) but in this case it was the death of two of our chickens.

When The Scientist was a toddler I used to ask her, "do you want to do it the easy way or the hard way?  The choice is yours."  It didn't take her long to figure out that the easy way was the preferred choice.  Of course this came back to bite me later on when she was forced to do things the hard way to get the result she wanted, but I guess that part of the learning curve too.  As a small aside:  One day we were pulling into a shopping center and she asked what store we were going into and I said, "The hardware store."  She started to cry and said she didn't want to go to the hardware store she wanted to go to the easyware store.  Chalk another one up in the tell your therapist when your 30 column.  Anyway, no surprise, I digress.

In the winter the kids regret having chickens.  It's cold, the wind whips across our yard, it gets dark really early and they eat more, mostly because they are bored but also because they burn more calories keeping warm.  So for three months out of the year there is a lot of complaining about who's turn it is to care for them. 

Well, this winter they started getting lazy about making sure their feeder was always full.  It was rarely empty but instead of constantly filling it they would wait until it was empty to fill it.  The reaction that caused was subtle and not recognized until it resulted in a very painful lesson for them. 

You see hens have a pecking order (pecking/chickens/get it?).  We can't do anything about it and it changes as the birds age, new birds are added to the flock or just because, but if you spend any time observing them you will clearly see who's in charge and who's at the bottom of the order.

So what was happening, unbeknown to the kids, was the chickens were rationing their food because there wasn't a unending supply of food anymore.  The dominant birds were preventing the two birds at the bottom of the order from freely eating.  Even this probably wouldn't of been enough to kill them, they were getting some food.  Then the straw that broke the camels back occurred.

Every now and then one of the hens doesn't make it back into the coop at night.  For whatever reason they fall asleep outside and when the coop gets closed up they wind up spending the night under the stars.  This can be a problem if there are predators in the area but our run is enclosed so that isn't as much of an issue. 

The two hens at the bottom of the pecking order for a reason that will remain unknown didn't return to the coop one night last week.  What made this even stranger was it had been pouring rain all evening and they don't normally like to be out in the rain for long.  The kids are supposed to make sure everyone is in before they close it up, but that doesn't always happen.  It's dark, cold, windy, raining, essentially miserable; no head count usually occurs on those nights.

When the sun came up Baseball Boy went out to open up the coop for the day.  He found Oreo and Jersey laying in the run next to the coop.  Both were soaking wet and had died during the night.  The temperatures had dropped dramatically and I was surprised to find both birds were underweight.  I think that between being wet and too thin they were unable to withstand the cold overnight.

This isn't the first time we've gone out in the morning to find dead hens.  You learn to accept that farm animals do not have the life expectancy of family pets and they in general live a riskier life.  But that doesn't make it any easier on the kids who almost instantly realized what happened and that the birds being underweight contributed to their demise.

So they learned a lesson the hard way, and Oreo and Jersey paid the price.  I'm sure that they would would cry and want to learn it at the easyware store, if only that were possible.

Randomness

We had a few weeks of beautiful warm spring weather. The other day a thunderstorm rolled through and dropped the temperature and it's been chilly ever since. I want my warm days back. I want to open my windows again and put my jacket back in the closet. Yes, I'd like some cheese with my whine.

Houdini escaped again! The little brat slipped under the fence in an area we are repairing after all the lawn damage from pool installation. Fortunately The Engineer was in the yard working and saw her visiting the neighbor across the street. I'm getting a complex.

Nibbles is old. Most guinea pigs owned by kids live to be about two. People who are really into cavies report they live from five to seven years. Nibbles is six. He lived the first year and a half of his life being ignored by a kid who wanted him then didn't. The kids parents took care of him until they got tired of it and then he came to live with us. When we got him he had an eye and sinus infection. He had cedar litter in his cage his whole life. Cedar litter is very bad for guinea pigs. We treated the infection but his eye and nose often have a discharge that are left over from the long term infection. If you have a guinea pig, please don't use cedar litter. Anyway, he's been losing weight and slowing down for a few months now. The vet thinks it's kidney failure. A change in diet slowed it down but there is no turning back once the kidneys start to go. The last few days he just hasn't been himself. His eye and nose are worse than ever and he is hardly eating. I got him kale, which is his favorite veggie, and he hardly touched it. So tonight it's back to the vet. She thinks he's coming to the end. She gave me some medicine to help his appetite and make him comfortable. It's just a matter of time. Say a little prayer for the Nibinator.

The son of a blogger I've read for a few years died last week. I've never met her but she's pretty open on her blog about herself and her family. I can't imagine out living one of my children. I feel weird because I don't know them at all yet I can't stop thinking about them and feeling bad for them. I'm not cold hearted but lets face it I've dealt with my share of death over the years and it doesn't usually weigh on me.

We added three chickens to our family today. The Scientist is doing a study for 4H and needed three chickens of the same breed and age in the prime of their laying years. Of course, it figures, our chickens don't fit that bill so we had to buy three chickens. Who knew it would be so difficult to find someone willing to sell three chickens of the same age and breed. Man, it took her over a month and countless phone calls by The Scientist to finally find them. In fact, it was her mentor at 4H who asked a favor of a friend to help her out. So right now three chickens are living in cages in my garage. After a few days they should be settled in enough to start her study. I'm sure you'll be hearing more about this in the future. Three chickens living in your garage has got to provide some good future blog fodder.

I got my fourth stripe in karate last week. That means that in the next few weeks I'll be taking my belt test. Finally.

I'm still sore from the seminar last weekend. I'm getting old.

Two of our chickens chased Mickey across the yard again today. They do not appreciate when he plays chicken bowling (picture a group of eight chickens standing around pecking the ground and doing what ever it is chickens do and Mickey runs through them and makes them all run off squawking). He got away unscathed this time, he wasn't so lucky last time.

The Scientist said to me today. "You're a pretty good mom. We're good kids and we're happy, I guess that means you're doing a good job raising us." I wanted to put that in writing so the next time she has a melt down and slams her bedroom door screaming she hates me I can refer back to it.

I met this guy who lost over a hundred pounds. Being overweight myself and nosy I asked him how he did it. He said he joined Overeaters Anonymous. So after putting it off for a couple of weeks I checked out their website. They had this little test. Answer these ten questions to see if you're addicted to food. I answered 7 out of 10 yes. So I figured, see I only agreed with seven out of ten, that's not too bad. Then I read the results part. It said, "If you answer yes to three or more you have a problem with food addiction." Damn....

How did a city girl wind up with chickens?

Several years ago we went to the local Grange Fair. We would hear over and over how much fun the kids would have if we went. I don't really enjoy fairs, pumpkin patches, carnivals and stuff like that. Too many people, I always spend too much money, the rides make me sick and could they think of any more ways to make a hayride uncomfortable. I guess I'm just a stick in the mud, it's just not my idea of fun. I just thought of the one thing I like about fairs. Funnel cake, I love funnel cake. Of course, by the time the kids take most of mine I don't even get to really enjoy it. Anyway back to my point.
Since 4H does their yearly show at the Grange Fair we were expecting to see a lot of farm animals. The girls were interested in the cavy's (guinea pigs) because they have one and thought it would be fun to check out all the different breeds. So we wandered through the sheep, steers, cows, and pigs, lots of pigs. Finally we came to the cavys and rabbits. The kids were there forever. I went and found a bench and got out a book while they looked, asked questions, petted, brushed, oohed and aahed over all the furry creatures. Finally, I hear my name being called and they are ready to move on. I finish my paragraph and walk back over. We turned the corner and there they were. All lined up in cages, clucking, throwing wood shavings, cock a doodle dooing, flapping wings and generally making a lot of noise.


That was the beginning. Cavies and bunnies forgotten they were all about the fowl. The Scientist's latest obsession was born. Of course the 4H people were happy to answer all their questions. I was ready to break out the book again but I didn't want to walk away. These people were amazingly into these birds and their enthusiasm was contagious.
The kids wanted to go out that night and get chickens. Whoa Nelly.... We live in a very prissy area. The people where we live are all about keeping up with the Jones' and how perfect you can make your yard. They already have to live with the German Shepard/Lab mix who loves to charge the property line so people wet their pants and a Pit Bull. Chickens might just send them over the edge. So we added that to our list of things we'll do "after we move".
I just figured by then the interest would wane...... you know you'd think I'd learn by now.

The $2200.00 Cat - Part Five: The Beginning

Confining Daisy while she continued to heal once she was home was easy. We dragged out an old dog crate, so big you could put a Great Dane in it, and set her up. As we were setting it up it occurred to me that we should have put her in here in the first place. Hind sight isn't always 20/20 but in this case it probably was. Placed in the middle of the family room she was able to be around the dogs and be safe from their exuberance.

We spent a lot of time while she was in the hospital studying the circumstances around what happened. After talking to the vet who treated her, our vet and several people from the dog training community who's opinion I respect the overall consensus was that the dogs were not being aggressive but just playing with her. Obviously the end result, her injuries, were unacceptable but all agreed that if their goal was to kill her she would have been dead. They had her trapped in an 18" x 18" area and could reach her with no problem. Her most significant injury was the skin tear and that was most likely the result of them trying to pull her out. She would have major internal injuries if they were biting to hurt her. I hear many of you thinking with Mickey's injuries any typical dog would have backed right out and quit if they were only playing, and you would be 100% correct. Pit Bulls are not typical dogs, they are not the evil killers the media has made them out to be (with help from a small percentage of horrible owners), but they were bred not to quit. If their intention was to kill her she would have died from the first bite. Two pit bulls vs one cat trapped: common sense tells you that if they wanted her dead she would be dead. Okay, back to the story....

Day one consisted of us shooing the dogs away from the crate. They were right back to the first day we brought her home with with their curiosity. Daisy needed to be confined for two weeks until the stitches were out and she had fully recovered her strength. This worked out perfectly because by the end of the two weeks both dogs had grown bored with her and were ignoring her. When we let her out we used the "leave it" command if they dogs were paying too much attention to her. They still try to play with her sometimes but even though they try to be gentle we stop them because she doesn't want to play with them, no surprise there. She was afraid of them when we brought her home but no longer fears them. To this day Mickey tries to chase her sometimes and get her to play. "Leave it" is heard about once a day still, but it started out five times a day so we are going in the right direction. You will often find Daisy sitting on someones lap on the sofa and one of the dogs laying next to them with everyone relaxed. The dogs will never be allowed to be left alone with Daisy, but it's a small price for us to pay for having this sweet kitty into our lives.

The $2200.00 Cat - Part Four: Daisy and Mickey's Very Bad Day

I wasted no time getting into the family room. The Engineer was still standing over both dogs and yelling at them to get away. I was immediately hit with the smell of urine and the metallic smell of blood. The recliner on the end of the sofa was up and both dogs had their full attention under the sofa. Malka was the first to back out and ran to her crate. She is wet and sticky with blood, I can not believe this nightmare. Mickey quickly followed, his face and front legs are covered with blood. Without even looking at her I knew that Daisy was in trouble. I prepared myself for the worst. I looked under the sofa and she is trapped in an area about 18 inches by 18 inches. She was obviously hurt and in shock but awake and aware. She didn't flinch when I got her out. She was wet from blood and urine. A quick check showed she had a 3 inch skin tear in her inguinal area. There was no active bleeding but I couldn't tell if she had any internal injuries. I didn't see any other obviously serious injuries but I knew she needed to get to the vet right away. And I couldn't understand where all the blood on the dogs came from. There is no way this cat lost that much blood and was still alive. Of course our vet's office hours were just coming to an end and she is a half hour away. So I wrapped her in a towel and took her to a local animal emergency room. They immediately take her back. Further exam by the vet shows she has an abrasion on her elbow and an injured toe nail. It's obvious she will need surgery. After letting the doctor know that I am a vet tech she is comfortable with me coming back to the surgery area. They place an IV in and give her medication and fluids to treat shock. They need to stabilize her before surgery. It's going to be a long night so I head home to check on everyone and give a group of worried kids an update. I get home and The Engineer tells me the dogs are still in their crates and it looks like they are hurt too. Mickey has what appears to be deep scratches on the side of his face. Both dogs are obviously alert so I take Malka out first since she has the most blood on her. I get her into the bathtub and start to rinse her down. The water running off her is bright red. I am upset and confused because other than a fur removing scratch next to her eye she has no injuries. After she cleaned up she's back in her crate and I start cleaning up Mickey's face. I don't want to bathe him without further checking his face. After cleaning off some of the blood it's obvious that Mickey has several deep lacerations on his cheeks near his eyes. One laceration is down to the bone. Now I know where all the blood came from. There is no way cat claws did this much damage and they are too clean to be tears from bites. While I'm taking care of the dogs The Engineer has flipped over the sofa and is trying to clean up the carpet. He sees where a metal bracket under the seat has been broken off. There is blood along the edge of the bracket. Mickey must have broken the bracket trying to get to Daisy. The edges were sharp and they sliced up his face. He is going to need stitches. Did you know that when you take a pit bull to a vet clinic that is unfamiliar with you and it has injuries they treat you like a criminal and sometimes don't want to treat your dog? It's like when you bring your kid to the ER with a broken arm and everyone gets interrogated because they always think the worst. That's what it was like. When I came back with him it had been shift change for the vet techs at the clinic. The same ER doc was on but you have to get past the vet techs before you see the doctor. Immediately I felt the suspicion. Great, just what I need, this crap after everything I've been through tonight. They wouldn't even look at him until I explained that this was the other half of the dog vs. cat fight I brought in earlier. Then I used the fact that he's a pit bull to my advantage. Two can play this game. I wanted to go back with him for treatment. They wanted me to wait in the waiting room. The clinic has a rule that the owner has to wait while they do their exam. I have a problem with that. I work for a vet. I understand that the owners attitudes play a key part in how calm the animal is going to be for an exam. If the owner is stressed the dog/cat will be stressed. So I understand that for emergency treatment an anxious owner can make it harder. We'll tough, that's your job to control the animals and work with the owners to calm them. At our clinic an owner is encouraged to come in and only asked to leave if they are obviously making things worse. But I wasn't in the mood to argue. So I played the pit bull card, telling them that it will be easier for me to handle him while they do the exam. After their initial trepidation when I walked in with an injured pit bull they were easy to convince. Mickey is such an easy going guy that within five minutes of taking him back all the techs were gathering around and doting on him. Mickey was loving every minute of it despite the mark of Zorro on each cheek. The ER doc came in to take a look and said he was going to need quite a few stitches. Daisy was resting comfortably but hadn't been operated on yet. The doctor wanted to sew him up before operating on Daisy so I said I would wait until he woke up so he wouldn't have to stay overnight. He is a rescue dog and I didn't know how he would react if he woke up in a cage alone. The ER doc let me stay with him until he was knocked out. So I went to the waiting room and fell asleep in a chair while waiting. Before I knew it I had him back. It had been five hours since this whole nightmare began. The ER doc said that Daisy was next and that she was holding her own and was stable enough for the operation. I paid the bill for Mickey, that will be $500.00 please, and took him home. He had sixteen stitches in his face and was a hurtin' pup. This was only the beginning. When all was said and done Daisy spent a week in the hospital and we racked up a $2200.00 bill. Fortunately her abdominal wall was intact and she had no internal injuries. Ten stitches closed up the skin tear cleanly and the abrasions and toe injury were minor and needed no treatment. Five hours after I walked into the ER with Daisy I walked out for the last time that night with Mickey. It was a week until Daisy came home and then we had to start the introduction process all over again. First order of business was to have a way to confine the escape artist so she could heal safely. That turned out to be the easy part.....

The $2200.00 Cat - Part Three: The Dogs

Let me introduce you to Mickey and Malka. Two of my fur kids. I'm lucky to have this picture since Malka thinks the camera is Hannibal Lecter reincarnate and hides every time she sees it come out.
Malka is a 6 year old female American Pit Bull Terrier, black with white markings. Mickey is a 3 year old male American Staffordshire Terrier, buckskin. Both came from shelters and had a rough start. Both are testimony as to how wonderful these dogs are in the right home, but I digress. Back to my story.....

Daisy stayed in The Vet's room for the better part of a week without issue. She was happy just to explore the mounds of stuff in the room and watch cat TV (a fish tank). The kids spent plenty of time in there playing with her and all was well. Introductions were going fine too. The dogs had lived with cats since we brought them home so it was just a matter of reminding them that the cat was not a chase toy. Since at the ripe old age of 15, Misty didn't spend much time running around, that wasn't much of a factor with her, but this feisty kitty might just be a little to enticing. When Daisy was out the dogs were curious and Mickey couldn't stop smelling her but they were being respectful of her space (with a little reminding now and then). When we go out both dogs are crated so we started letting Daisy out to roam the house during these times. We were at a point that there were only a few times when it was necessary to confine her because when we weren't home the dogs were crated, right, yea, that's what we thought too. Then Daisy figured out how to open The Vet's door. We were excited, she's smart on top of being friendly and playful. Besides, we knew we wouldn't have to confine her much longer.

Another week goes by and we are becoming more confident. The dogs still pay more attention to her than I'd like but they aren't being aggressive just playful. Still, two 70 lb dogs playing with a 10 lb cat needs to be closely monitored. Daisy, on the other hand, didn't get the memo that running up to dogs and then running away increases def con levels. But, with continued supervision all is going along as expected.

It started like any other day (forgive the cliche). We got our schoolwork done early and the weather was gorgeous. We spent most of the day outside and came in just in time to get changed and head to karate. The dogs had been outside with us most of the day and were tired. Daisy, once again, had escaped from her room. We threw the dogs in their crates and headed out the door. Sometime after we left The Engineer came home from work and let the dogs out of their crates. He went outside to put the trash out and the dogs didn't want to go back out. Not knowing that Daisy, escape artist extraordinaire, was loose in the house, he just left them.

Not long after I came home and we went in together. I paused in the kitchen and heard a loud shout from the family room that made my heart stop. I ran to the family room and that sound, the sight and smells will stay with me always.

The $2200.00 Cat - Part Two: The Cat

Off they go. They know their way around the SPCA since we've been there before. It's been several months since our elderly kitty, Misty, passed away and the kids really miss having a cat around. So it's no surprise that they're gone before I've written the date at the top of the paper. The questions seemed endless: where did I find the chicken; when did I find the chicken; do I know anything about it's history; did I ask around to see if anyone owns it; is it a rooster or a hen; why don't I keep it; how old do I think it is; what breed of chicken is it; jeepers you'd think I was giving them my first born. Hey, whatever, they are doing me a huge favor taking this chicken and finding it a home. And they thanked me for bringing food.

So paperwork done I go to retrieve the kids. Now I know that for the last month or so they have really wanted to get another cat. I also know that everywhere they go they are looking for just the right kitty. I walk into the cat room and The Vet is sitting on the floor holding a cat and The Genius and Baseball Boy are playing with another one. Uh oh, this isn't good. Two friendly playful cats at once. I know what's coming so I decide to head it off at the pass. I walk over to The Genius and try to pick up the cat they are playing with, she squirms all around and jumps down. Cool, I don't want a cat that doesn't like to be picked up, I don't care how playful it is. Strike that one. I turn my attention to The Vet, now she has a special touch when it comes to animals, cats in particular, they just relax with her so having a cat in her arms doesn't mean much when it comes to anyone else trying to hold it. So I scoop the kitty out of her arms as she informs me that her name is Emma and she is really playful. The pesky kitty is unperturbed and makes herself comfortable in my arms. She is purring before I know it, damn. I put her down and The Vet picks up a cat toy and rolls it across the floor. Emma goes right after it and begins playing. All three kids look at me hopefully and I tell them to stay here, I'm going to go get some information. I'm gone awhile and get all the stats about Emma. She's two years old, lived in a house with kids, litter trained, spayed and gets along with other cats. The only thing that is a negative is they don't know how she is around dogs. So I go back and watch the kids playing with the cats some more. The Vet is really gravitating to Emma and she's the one who really loves having a cat. I should call The Engineer and run this past him but I know in the end he isn't going to want to get it but he won't want to be the bad guy and will give in. The kids have already laid out their reasons for getting another one even though their father and I were really hoping to go kitty free. The Vet can be pretty persuasive and she hit all the right points. She was responsible for cleaning Misty's litter box and making sure she had fresh food and water and she did it, most times without being reminded. She made it clear that any new kitty would be her responsibility and that we wouldn't have to worry about it. She's a pretty responsible kid and when she says she's going to do something she usually follows through. I was ready, I had to admit I missed having a kitty around too. But The Engineer wasn't ready. He had all the usual excuses when we wanted to add a new critter to our crew. What if it didn't get along with the other animals? What if it didn't use the litter box? What about the mess? At this rate we'd never get another cat. So I decided to skip the phone call and just make the decision. Besides it was adopt a cat month and the adoption fee was only $35. I walked into the cat room and announced we were adopting Emma. A cheer went up in the room and I went back out to fill out more paperwork. Fifteen minutes later we walked out the door with Emma. I called The Engineer on the drive home and broke the news. By the time we got home Emma had become Daisy and we had a new cat.

The Vet got to work setting up a litter box, food and water in her room along with some new toys they gave us at the SPCA when we adopted her. The plan was to keep Daisy sequestered until she could be properly introduced to the dogs and the rest of the house. Well, you know what they say about the best laid plans......

The $2200.00 Cat - Part One: The Chicken

Driving home late last summer, quietly oblivious to anything except the road ahead I am blown out of my peaceful state by three kids screaming. I immediately slam on my brakes and pull to the side of the road. Oh my G-d, is everyone okay, did I hit something, did something horrible just happen in front of their eyes that I didn't see? They are so upset it takes them a minute to get the story out so that I can understand them. "A chicken, a chicken, he's dirty, oh no he's going to get killed." What they hell are they blabbering about, a chicken? Finally, they calm down enough to tell me they saw a chicken on the side of the road at a busy intersection we just passed. It appears to be dirty and is walking close to the road. They must go save it or they will not be able to live with themselves, their lives ruined, they will fall into a life of crime and die at a young age from no doubt a brutal death. I am already questioning why I felt the need to pass along my love of animals to my children. It's a chicken, you guys eat them at least twice a week without blinking an eye. The Vet's favorite meal is a spicy chicken dish. Give me a break! But I know when I can't win so I turn around saying a little prayer that the chicken lives there and just got out of the coop. It was not to be, the neighbors told us that two chickens had been dumped by someone about a week ago and they don't know what happened to the other one (hawk or fox food, no doubt) but this one just keeps hanging around. It was filthy and it looked just plain tired. We chased it around until it just gave up and we caught it. We wrapped it up and put it in the van and home we go. What the heck am I going to do with this chicken, which to make matters worse appears to be a rooster. Nobody wants roosters, they're noisy and other than making little chicks there isn't much point to them. Okay, they are beautiful but that doesn't make up for all the other stuff. I'm sure they are tasty but the kids would have none of that. We have chickens and I think my kids just had dreams of putting him in our coop and living out a wonderful life among our flock.

NOT

First and foremost we don't know anything about the health of this chicken and putting him in our coop could wipe out our flock.

Second: NO ROOSTERS ALLOWED.

Third: Mom and Dad said no, period.

So I call some chicken friends but no one can take him. I call the local SPCA looking for advice and am told to bring him over. They have a list of farms that take farm animals. They are getting ready to close but we tell them we will be there first thing in the morning. So the kids give him a bath so he's nice and clean for his new farm home and make a makeshift pen in our garage for the night. Give him fresh food and water and off to sweet dreams they go knowing they have made a life better in this world. They are up bright and early to check on the chicken they named "Bruce the rooster". He is obviously well rested and his belly is full. He has escaped from his pen and is using the entire garage as his coop. They are pleased as punch at how much better he appears. Later that afternoon that changed while cleaning up the garage, but hey not everything is roses. After breakfast the kids fill a zip lock bag with chicken food and off to the SPCA we go. We bring Bruce in and he's the star of the show. Several people there looking at dogs and cats all flock around to meet him. It's not long before Bruce is whisked away for a checkup and prepared for a trip to his new home. While I'm filling out the paperwork the kids want to go visit the cats. Sure, go ahead. I'll come get you when I'm ready to leave. Silly me.