Bashful?

Maybe Not:

So I was going to write up my own post on how to test the freshness of your eggs, but the My Morning Chocolate blog already did: How to Tell if Your Eggs Are Fresh

Of course, our eggs sink like a rock

Back in July, the New York Times published an interesting article and video essay about a mixed-media artist who became involved with chickens:

The article – Feathering Her Nest

The video essay – Home to Roost

Over three inches of rain today in Sacramento. Here’s the result:

Someone tried very hard this morning to politely ask for the scrambled egg crumbs I left on the coffee table…

Oh. My. God.

This video begins slow and then goes nuts at about 2:05!

The most spectacularly horrifying highlights:

2:32 “The Separator”

3:10 “Females down one chute, males down the other”

3:50 “The Optical Counter”

4:05 “‘Falling’ into transportation boxes”

I don’t think this is cool, no matter how ’safe’ they claim it is.

“The dye is injected into ordinary chicken eggs a few weeks before Easter….”

First, what kind of dye? And just because the article says that the hatchery says it’s safe, doesn’t make it true.

Second, even if it is safe, it encourages people to buy chicks they have no intention of taking care of or even eating. It turns a living animal into a trinket. This is not being responsible with either our pets or our food.

A Family of Injuries

Those of you who know me in real life — which, let’s face it, is probably all of you cause who else would read my chicken blog besides friends and family? — and follow me on Facebook, know that The S.O. injured himself while mountain biking last week. A week before that, we were horribly irresponsible and let The Dog run around on a bunch of jagged rocks at the lake. The rocks cut up his pads so bad he limped and needed to wear the Cone of Shame for a week. Just a few days ago, I managed to cut my hand pretty bad on a broken piece of glass.

Injury of the Week

The chickens are not immune to our bad luck. We’re not sure how it happened, but Wanda injured her foot at some point during the last week. Possibly she jumped off something a little too high, or maybe pinched her toe–I don’t know. What I do know is that one of her toes swelled and twisted a bit so that it doesn’t lie flat on the ground.

She’s still laying an egg every day, walks around ok and jumps up and down from her night perch, but leaving it alone has only increased the swelling and she has a bit of a limp.

I researched the forums on www.BackyardChickens.com to see what other people do with an injured, possibly infected, chicken foot (it’s a pretty common ailment). Many people suggest antibiotics, but I don’t want to go there if I can avoid it.

Cross-species First Aid Kit

After sorting through the various advice, and figuring our family has further injuries in our future, I took a trip to the local drugstore with the specific goal of only purchasing first aid supplies safe to use on ALL members of the family.

Yes, that’s right. I am putting together an all-purpose, cross-species, basic first aid kit.

Here’s what I have so far:

• Aspirin (just need to be careful about correct dosage for our various species and weights.)
• Hydrogen Peroxide
• Neosporin (MUST be original formula. The ‘with Pain Reliever’ version is lethal to chickens. Otherwise it’s fine to use on all members of our family–human, dog, chicken, cat–but should be wrapped well when used on dogs. It’s not healthy for a dog to ingest a lot of neosporin.)
• Cotton Balls
• Bandages (I got the kind that’s easy to cut to fit dog-sized paws, chicken-sized toes, and human-sized shins.)
• Bandage Tape
• VetWrap (self-stick)
• VetBond (super-glue meant to replace the need for stitches. Regular super-glue is toxic when it enters the human bloodstream. A prescription is needed to obtain medical grade super-glue for humans. VetBond has, from what I’ve researched online, the same formula as super-glue for humans, but because it’s for ‘animals’, you don’t need a prescription. Well, humans are animals too, especially when it means saving ourselves a trip to the emergency room. Just be super careful about really cleaning out the wound before sealing it over.)
• Latex Gloves (I got a nice big box of gloves. It makes me feel less when squeamish dealing with various family members blood and other liquids, plus, it’s just more sanitary.)

I’m sure I will add to the above list over time, but it’s a good enough start for now.

One specialty item I added just for Wanda’s toe was a razor blade. I will need to cut into her foot soon and take out the infection.

Stay tuned …

Yes, our back fence neighbor’s pomegranate tree exists no longer. I was riding my bike with The Dog by the house and saw the owner in the front yard. I started a pleasant conversation with him to find out why he cut the tree down!

Twenty minutes later, after getting a tour of all the remodeling he’s done (he bought the house about 3 months ago in order to flip it), and commenting on all the nice upgrades, I casually asked if me and The Dog could check out the backyard. He said, “Go right ahead.” So I did. I immediately saw the massacre he had committed against the pomegranate tree. It was gone, gone, gone. Brutally chainsawed through the trunk.

I kind of looked around, and then, totally nonchalantly, said, “Oh, it looks like you did a lot of work back here. I hope it wasn’t too much work to cut that tree down.”

“Oh yeah, no big deal,” he said.

“Really? That’s cool, cause it seemed like it would be a lot of work with how full and heavy it looked with all those hundreds of pomegranates.”

“Yeah,” he said, and then grinned. “I just got in the mood to clear things out one day, so I did. I came out here with my chainsaw and cut everything down.”

“Huh,” I said, trying not to choke or to let my facial expression turn into a scowl. “I had my eye on a couple of the pomegranates hanging over the fence, but yeah, I guess I can see how chainsawing down fruit trees cause you’re ‘in the mood’ would make sense. Bastard!”

(Okay, I didn’t say those last couple of sentences. All I managed was a “Huh” and then I said I needed to take The Dog home cause he was thirsty.)

Whatever. It’s this guy’s house and he can do whatever he wants to it. But still, I long for what could have been:

Something’s happened.

Not in our backyard, but in one we share a fence with. I’ll have more details later when I can better investigate, but all I can say for now is that someone cut down a pomegranate tree. A pomegranate tree that, as of last week, had been heavy with almost-ripe pomegranates. Almost-ripe as in ripe in just a couple more weeks … I feel sick.