On The Yard

The winter was hard on the flock. The coop was warm enough, but, though great efforts were made in the planning and construction, the building was not as secure as I had imagined. I locked it most every night–well, barricaded the door–but had not counted on daytime raids. Unlike last year–when, on three occasions, I found eviscerated Leghorns frozen to the dirt in the run, this winter when the flock suffered a loss it seemed that the casualty was carried off. Only the top-end predators (here, think lions and crocodiles) bother with the entire carcass. Most lesser carnivores, hoping to make the most of their opportunism before a beast (real or imagined) further up the food chain stumbles across the scene, will satisfy themselves with viscera and beat a hasty retreat. The disappearances were puzzling. Fiona, a neighbor who also keeps chickens, insists that when one of her chickens goes missing it has been purloined for use in a ritual of Santeria held somewhere in the bowels of Prospect Park, the borders of which are not three blocks away. I had my doubts, but no alternate theory to offer.

to avoid violence associated with establishing the peck  order it is recommended that new birds be reduced at night

to avoid violence associated with establishing the peck order it is recommended that new birds be introduced into the flock at night

But I digress. By late February we had lost two of the three remaining birds. The idea of going to zero on my laying flock weighed heavily. I feared that if we lost all the hens, any resulting interruption in fresh egg production would doom my already slim chances of rebuilding the flock and we would default to the grocery store and languish there forever. I did not lay eyes on the culprit until the first week of March. In the predawn I was woken by the alarm call of Last Chicken Standing. I leapt from bed and flung the window open just in time to witness the terrified red hen sprinting down the driveway pursued by the largest raccoon I have seen (not just in Brooklyn, anywhere). There is a gaze of raccoons rumored to nest hard-by the dumpster at the KFC on Coney Island Avenue. I suspect all this locavore chatter had not been lost on the great, shambling filcher staring up at me now, when our dog Fergus leapt up on the window sill to see what all the excitement was about, the raccoon made for the back fence. Last Chicken Standing is now in protective custody in a metal layer cage, terribly lonely, bored and forlorn, but still producing one very high quality small brown egg every morning.

After some negotiation with Lisa I have placed an order for reinforcements. We expect delivery during the week of May 25. The birds arrive airfreight in a cardboard carrying case marked “LIVESTOCK.” The new flock consists of one red pullet, a pair of White Leghorns and two Black Stars. These are not the fancy collector birds you read about when (if) you read about fowl collectors. No outrageous plumage, no miniature splendor, our birds are work-a-day egg machines. At 18 weeks they should begin a life of labor, producing one egg a day. The propaganda from Murray McMurray Hatchery is very encouraging: “If you are after maximum production of eggs with the most efficient feed conversion ratio [and who isn’t?], then this is your ticket. These pullets weigh about 4 lbs. at maturity, start laying at 4 1/2 to 5 months, and will continue 10 to 12 weeks longer than most good layers.”

I have begun the renovations of the original coop. In order to limit pecking order violence, each hen will have her own laying box and there will be ample roosting room. In an effort to limit any further predation, the coop’s run will be completely enclosed and attached to the coop itself. This year’s Winter Palace will be converted into a backyard clubhouse for the children. They will have ungoverned access to it as soon as it is free of vapors from the structure’s planned total immersion in chlorine bleach. More when there is more..

4 thoughts on “On The Yard

  1. Keep us posted on this new shipment! Here in the 6th borough (Philadelphia) laying chickens is all the rage, even though, technically, it’s not legal inside city limits. I’m anxious to hear about how the new plain jane egg machines work out.

  2. Looking forward to hearing about the arrival of the new flock…and how you intend to keep the raccoons at bay.

    Oh, and I also think you need a Foghorn Leghorn cutout for your backyard, like a scarecrow but more for decorative purposes.

  3. Here in the Sierras we many people have to make sure the hen house and hen yard, if the chickens are not free range, has construction cloth under the coop flooring and up the sides a good three feet since raccoons and other critters can chew or claw threw wood. Their yard area has to have secure wire fencing that is two feet into the ground to prevent critters from digging under and in. Used to have Leghorns when we lived in the SF bay area but they were to flighty and often would fly over our fence and nest in the neighbors garden which was good. They had a dog. And our hens need secure covering since we have hawks and other birds that if given the chance will swoop down and take chickens if they are in a big open area. So am always interested in city folks who have Leghorns and what issues they have with them.

    • The Flatbush urban coop also requires siege construction techniques.No caponiers nor crenelations, but raccoons are a constant concern when the temperature drops and the neighborhood garbage freezes. We live close enough to Prospect Park so that raptors have been a an occasional concern. We lost two birds (one a leghorn) to a red tailed hawk before I identified the threat. Moving the coop hard up against the garage lowered its profile from the air and saves on fencing material. We have distant neighbors with the same curiosity for feral cats that we have for chickens. They have been less of a problem than I would have thought. I had to install a fence around the property because the children commuting back and forth to school discovered the coop. I returned home one afternoon to find the yard full of as many squawking teenage boys as chickens.

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