To free range or not?

Le poulet fermier?

Right now it's 4:17 in the afternoon and our four chickens, Chloe, Callie, Cleo, and Otis the Rooster, are free-ranging out in their big deer-fenced area on the side of the house. They're dust bathing and sun bathing, since it's a balmy 58 degrees. 

Free ranging is a big deal these days. You get free range eggs and egg dishes in the kinds of restaurants that have all the menu descriptors in French, because the image of lovely roaming poulets laying healthy oeufs is one which we foodies dearly love and is the reason a lot of us actually start keeping chickens in the first place. But is free ranging the best thing for them?

Mid to late afternoon is generally the time of day when I allow my chickens to roam their side of the property...when it's a busy time in our rural neighborhood. The dog next door has taken to barking at random air molecules (something he often does), there's a bit more commuter traffic on the road by our house than other times of day, and I'm generally nearby, doing this and that around the property.

While I love the idea of hens free-ranging 100 percent of the time and laying those coveted 100 percent free-range eggs, I don't allow my chickens to free range it all day long. It's an idea that sounds great, but I don't want to risk the loss of life and my investment. In other words, if my chickens is going to get eaten, it better be by me. 

In our area, we have foxes, coyotes, occasional loose dogs, plus eagles and hawks of all kinds. We have raccoons and skunks. All these critters will happily kill a chicken -- or entire flock, given the chance. And my job, as the chief chicken steward, is to keep those chances as low as possible.

Le Coop.

I've had two friends lose chickens in the last month. One was letting hers free-range in her yard 24/7 and roost in the trees at night, which was, as she said, "the way God intended it." Unfortunately, apparently God also gave raccoons a taste for blood and sport killing, so she's one chicken down now. Another friend let her hens out to free range and went into town for an hour, only to come home and find her entire flock murdered by either a stray dog or coyote.

There's a lot of talk around about just letting "chickens be chickens," meaning letting them find their own food, shelter and protection as they would "in the wild." I don't buy into this because the chickens we raise today are nothing like the chickens your ancestors had in their yard. 

Most of our hens are purebred birds, born in an incubator, raised in a brooder, and dependent on us for food, just as we're dependent on them for our omelettes and meringues. They are about as much able to be "natural" chickens as a pug is able to behave like a wolf. Traits like common sense and smaller size have sadly been gradually bred out of them as better laying was bred in. 

Today's hens are super layers, and are also plump, tall in height and not terribly bright. That's the down side of selective breeding  -- we have super layers who are super stupid. And so it stands to reason that our chickens today need more supervision than cross-bred, half-wild birds. You can't just turn them loose in the yard and expect a good outcome - for them or you.  

Le Run.

Le Sécurité.

I also don't want any area predators to realize this is where the lunch wagon is, and once you lose one bird to a predator it stands to reason they'll return right back to your property the next time they're hungry.  And so, while I am in no way a chicken expert, in keeping them for several years I have learned a few things, a few of which I touched on above, and a couple of other things:

1.  Limit the amount of time you let your hens completely out to range on your property. Let them roam when there's activity going on that will deter coyotes and raptors. Sometimes just your presence is enough, but so is your neighbor pruning his trees or running his tractor.

2. Train your birds to come to you at a recall signal of some kind. It's as simple as offering a treat when they come, and they learn pretty quickly. This allows you to get your birds in quickly should there be a predator be in the area.

3.  If you can have a rooster, do so. I was so reluctant to do this because I'd experienced a couple of nightmare roosters at friends' houses. But my bantam rooster Otis is lovely. He's gentle yet brave, and not so much a grand protector as much as a great alarm system. If there is a hawk in the area, I can hear his distress crows from inside the house. He's much louder than the hens and therefore lets me know there is trouble well before I would spot it for myself.

4.  Have a secure, smaller run, a decent sized hen house and a good, solid door to keep everyone safe at night. Chickens are their most vulnerable at night, so that last point is the most important.

5.  Don't accept attrition by predator killing to be just part of doing business. I've kept chickens for five years now and have yet to lose one to a predator. I'm sure it will happen at some point, but going a half-decade without it happening is encouraging.

6.  Think like a predator. If you see gaping holes which would allow predators in, seal it immediately. Buy the best and strongest fencing you can afford. And go out at night regularly and make sure everything is completely secure and locked down. Finding your flock murdered would be a terrible way to discover your security door was not working like you thought it was.

In short, there is no good reason for losing birds to become a regular thing, if you're willing to do the work to help keep everyone safe outside and in. 

Otis the Egg-Eater

Locked out of paradise.

This is Otis, the last of the brood that Ellen hatched out last spring. As you can see, he's turned into a fine looking bantam rooster. I did not necessarily want a rooster, but when you hatch a clutch of eggs, you get what you get. Just my luck, I ended up with three roosters and one hen, and was damn lucky to find homes for two out of the three roos. Otis was the last, and so I kept him.

Being a bantam, Otis is too small for those folks who would buy a rooster to make chicken stew from. So he's no good for butchering. But on the positive side, his crow is not overly-loud and obnoxious because he's so small, and he doesn't hassle (a.k.a. rape) the hens because he's just not big enough to mount them, and so in some ways, he's been a pretty easy keep for a rooster.

Up until now, Otis has lived the life of a Napoleonic complexed, hen-pecked husband with six wives who boss him around constantly. But now he's developed a habit that I cannot abide or live with: he's become an egg eater.

I discovered this last week when I went in to collect eggs and found him next to the evidence...a broken egg, contents leaking all over the nesting box...and there was Otis, so innocently standing around right at the scene of the crime.  He got one pass, as I figured it might have been a hen who pecked her own egg, and the henpecked husband was just caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. 

Then I caught him a second, and the next day a third time. So there was no mistaking Otis as the culprit. When you google "egg-eating chicken" on the internet, one of the things the chicken websites tell you to look for is incriminating egg residue on the offending chicken's beak, but I went more on "means, motive and opportunity" as my methods of discovery.

And so now Otis must free-range during the day, in order that he does not have access to the nest boxes. He doesn't seem to mind too much, right now, except when it's raining or windy (he does have places to get out of the weather, but chooses not to use them). I would imagine that as the days get longer I will have him free-range 24/7, to minimize having to go outside every morning and evening to relocate him. 

It's a hard life for male animals on the homestead, no question. A farm is possibly the one place where being born female has a distinct advantage -- you reproduce, therefore you're more valuable and can often expect to live a long life, cared for and loved. 

But Otis The Egg-Eater must now live the life of a bachelor frontiersman, out in the yard. He's just lucky he's not big enough to eat, I suppose. And while I do worry he may become food for a hawk or other raptor, it's a fear I'll have to live with and a risk Otis will have to take. Because his only other option is becoming part of a one-portion, bite sized stew.

P.S. Since relocating him to free-range all day, not a single egg has been eaten. 

And the Daytime Drama Award goes to....

Here is our story, which we join already in progress:  Dear, sweet, fluffy and somewhat dumb Phyllis has been nursing a head wound for the last several days because her husband Col. Sanders got a bit rough with her when they were having sex one hot evening (or several).

Victim. (Portrayal by actress)

Basically, she is now bald and bleeding on the back of her head!  Also in the hospital ward, plump, predictable and very gentle Miss Shippy is on confined bed rest, due to her being attacked by a vicious dog from down the street.  In the meantime, everyone is wondering what will become of that two-faced cad Col. Sanders once his crimes have become known, and they are nervous about Phyllis coming into contact with him before then.

Police artist's sketch of perpetrator, Col Sanders, also known to use the alias "Bucket o' Cluck."

Another favorite character, the tall, dark and ever-lovely Miss Hawk, has gone missing for several weeks now, only briefly reappearing at the neighborhood watering hole before taking off again.  Rumor has it, she may have several secret children and be keeping them and their identities under cover!  Because we all know Col. Sanders gets around when he's not busy abusing poor Phyllis. And if he's that cruel to Miss Phyllis, who knows what he'd do with little ones running around under his feet.  It's just too awful to think about!

Have you seen anyone resembling this chicken?  May be accompanied by 10 or 12 peeping youngsters.

Does this sound like a cheesy afternoon soap opera?  It's not. It's just the general plot points of my neighbors' chickens, who I have been watching while they go on a romantic cruise to the Bahamas. You know, I'm starting to realize that if you want peaceful farm animals, get sheep. If you want excitement and unpredictability, get goats.  And if it's drama you love, get some chickens. Holy moly.

Proposition Two: Bucks for Clucks

I've recently had several friends inquire about buying my eggs.  I use most of my eggs but am happy to give them away whenever I have a spare dozen, which does happen occasionally.

But I found out that the recent rash of inquiries has come about due to the fact that the price of eggs has skyrocketed, due to the implementation of California's Proposition Two.  In case you are not familiar with the jist of Proposition Two, here is a brief description I pulled from a political website:

Proposition 2 created a new state statute that prohibits the confinement of farm animals in a manner that does not allow them to turn around freely, lie down, stand up, and fully extend their limbs. The law is set to go into full effect on January 1, 2015.

 So apparently the cost of eggs went up dramatically as California began to implement the conditions set forth in Proposition Two, specifically as it refers to chickens.  With out-of-state chicken farms no longer allowed to sell eggs in California unless they adhere to Prop Two's standards, and with California-based egg producers having to create larger cage areas for their own hens, egg prices rose accordingly.

But for me, if I didn't own a single hen and had to pay for all my eggs, I think the price would be worth it.  After watching my chickens in their roost, their coop and their run, I have to say that chickens are social creatures who are happier (I know, value judgement) with room to move.

This morning, for instance, I noticed all the hens grouped together in one corner of their run, watching something intently.  When I went outside to see what all the fuss was, they were all out there gawking at a California Quail, who was sitting on a fence nearby and issuing a loud mating call to the lady quails in the brush.  

At other times, if I am working in my garden while they are free-ranging, they will inevitably find their way over to where I am to see what I am doing. When allowed to do so, they will range over our entire property, scratching, eating greens and digging for insects.  In short, hens are creatures that like to inquire, explore and roam. 

And so it would make sense that Proposition Two is an important first step in assuring the creatures we keep for food are given at least the bare essentials that would make them comfortable.

It also goes without saying that the less confined the quarters for chickens, the less diseases can spread. Which is good for us as well as the hens.

While nothing will ever be as good as an egg from a free-range hen, with its bright white and deep orange yolk, at least consumers can now buy a dozen eggs knowing the hen who laid it at least has enough room to stand up, turn around, and stretch her legs.  That, in my opinion, is worth paying a little more for.