Hello All,
On June 29, 2009 I posted a story about our wonderful new Chicken Coop that my sister, Diane and brother-in-law, WC built on their visit to Texas last June. Yeah, it's a family tradition to put guest and visitors to work. Actually we love it. Sorta like the old days when we'd have a barn raising, crop tobacco or picking cotton together. But, you always were well fed at the end of the day.
I wanted to finish the story about Groggy the rooster with a personally complex and HOMER, the chicken snake but first let me explain the photo on June 29, 2009. It is not really blurry because I was afraid of Groggy Foggy (the Blue-Red Laced Wyandotte Rooster)
it was my camera going out. But, I admit I take really fast steps around that fella. Funny rooster, now that he has a harem he has become the big COCK on the Block. I take a golf putter in with me when I gather eggs just to remind him that my legs are not to be touched by his huge spurs and long black toe nails and that if he tries he will become next Sunday's dinner.
it was my camera going out. But, I admit I take really fast steps around that fella. Funny rooster, now that he has a harem he has become the big COCK on the Block. I take a golf putter in with me when I gather eggs just to remind him that my legs are not to be touched by his huge spurs and long black toe nails and that if he tries he will become next Sunday's dinner.
Ok...back to the snake story, my sweet, sister and I continue to wonder where Homer is hiding. Everyday I go in and look around for him while gathering eggs with one hand and holding my golf putter in the other and keeping an eye on Groggy. The chickens are really sweet hens; we have a Rhode Island Red "Island Girl", a Jersey Gaint "Jersey Girl" and two Barred Plymouth Rocks, named Mae and Gurdy. Watching these gals, I have concluded that they really know how to build up a man's self esteem. They let Groggy boast and flap his wings and go right on about their business; while occasionally looking at him and speaking sweet words in their soft, little clucking manner.
The next few weeks, we would find an egg or two and we got to thinkin' maybe they need better feed, classical music piped in or motivational conventions. Then, it hit me, yeah, right there in plain sight, HOMER, the chicken snake, was eating the eggs. OK, I don't like snakes but I respect them especially when they are almost six feet long. Still, realizing he was eating the eggs I decided he had to go. By the way, I read on my chicken for dummies website that these snakes are also known as Racer Snakes... and if that wasn't bad enough they like to park their big, long, black bodies under a hen in her nest waiting for the egg. Sure, now my egg gathering days were definitely numbered unless I used grilling thongs to grab the egg before HOMER could wrestle me for it.
Researching different ways to remove HOMER permanently, I was told by an older fella; who I figured knew a whole heaping bunch more than me, to put golf balls in the nest and the snake (not being very smart) would try to eat the gold ball instead the egg. Nope, it didn't work but on one my HOMER sighting a my wonderful, neighbor, who is retired from Dallas Fire Department and t'aint a whole lot of scare of much did wonder out load if my hens were laying golf balls and if so, stated, I'd be in the money!
Eggs continued to disappear with the shells left in the nest all crushed and regurgitated. My dear friends, Marion and Julie, who we volunteer together at Equest Therapeutic Riding Center in Wylie come out on Wednesdays to visit for a "ladies day" out, I'm sure, thought I was exaggerating the size of this fella, HOMER. But, I think I had Marion talked into putting him in a pillow case and taking him to other side of the county if only we could find him. Naturally, he is no where around when the ladies visit.
So, I talked with more friends in town and a country girl who is quick to the point says...."go get ya some moth balls and throw 'em out. Snakes hate the smell". I can understand why....so do the humans, goats, horses and any other critter within 500 yards. But, not wanting to lose this fight I do as I'm told and the chicken coop smells like Grandma's attic for weeks. The hens walked around with their wings covering their sweet little faces and the Groggy just had this look of confusion.
BUT, I'm proud to say it worked. We are now getting two or three eggs a day. I figure with four hens someone needs a day off here and there and boy is it great fun to go in and gather the eggs just like I did when I was a little girl at Grandmama's place.
But....I'm still carry that golf putter because the hens continue to build Groggy's self esteem higher everyday.
Angie and the girls
