How's Robb?

... Our bossiest hen, Anne Elliott, is not feeling well.  She is not terrorizing her flock mates.  Although she is still monopolizing the preferred nest box, much to the consternation of all the other girls, she is not laying eggs. She isn't particularly interested in food, and isn't pooping much.  Robb and I are worried that she might be egg-bound, and so we tried the treatment suggested for just about every chicken malady.  A nice warm bath. Anne Elliott was not impressed. Today is our mostly-annual Egg-Stravaganza which means that Robb and I are busy all day.  If Anne Elliott doesn't improve, we'll be seeking medical care. Do any of our blog readers have advice on this subject?  How does one do a hen examination, anyway? 

... Please join us this Sunday for our somewhat-annual non-denominational Egg-Stravaganza. Learn to make beautiful Ukrainian-style decorated eggs.  Do not listen to that horrible voice inside your head that tells you that you are not creative. Even if you are a person who swears they have no artistic abilities, you can do this.  Trust me.  You will make something beautiful and impressive, and you'll have fun doing it.  1111 8th Street in North Berkeley 1 - 5 pm bring a blown egg, or two  dress to work with dyes

Robb and I live in a very diverse neighborhood, which we just adore. But even in the most idyllic situations, there are things that are, well, Less Than Perfect. And I need to vent about one of these situations, and ask for some advice. Our next door neighbors on the southwest side are a very hardworking family who speak virtually no English (to be perfectly clear, their English is just as bad as my nonexistent Spanish).  They keep an immaculate house, which just happens to be walled up like a kind of cheerfully painted urban fortress.  They have a neatly paved front yard, composed of concrete "stones" laid out like a chessboard. In this yard are perfectly manicured fruit trees, and topiary rosebushes that have colored spotlights shining on then.  The house has no doorbell, and is surrounded by a cheerfully painted steel gate.  When someone wants to park their car, they park on the sidewalk and honk the horn for minutes on end.  When we first moved in, the old man was run

... Our hens continue to baffle and delight.  Harriet (pictured above) has laid an egg every day for the last fifteen days.  She's a Wonder Hen, but this is not normal.  From what we've read, we believe that chickens are supposed to lay eggs for five days or so and then take a day off.  Crazy Lydia started seems to have stopped laying.  She's apparently healthy, and we've been trying to determine if she has a hidden nest somewhere.  This seems highly unlikely, given the tiny size of our garden. Anne Elliot never took a break for the winter, and continues to lay steadily. And Isabella has decided that her job is to be entirely decorative, and that egg laying is not her responsibility.  Eating everything in sight is okay, but laying eggs is not. Our chickens love nothing better than eating grass, to the point that we had to build some extra fences to keep them from destroying what little lawn we have.  Last week, Robb cut our front lawn, and at my suggestion

... About a year ago, I bought a fleece from Windrush Farm .  I got about half of it washed, and then I just ran out of steam.  This past fall and winter were a terrible time for me. I had no energy, and was a shadow of my usual self.  This came on slowly, so I didn't take it as seriously as I should have.  Given the choice between doing something interesting and going to bed, I'd choose bed.  Thankfully, I did realize that there was something more than laziness at play, and finally got it taken care of.  In my case, I had an untreated sinus infection that was sucking away all of my energy.  I'm feeling much better now, and am a much happier person. Anyway, here's what this fleece looked like, before I tore it into manageable pieces and set about washing.  I always enjoy how a well-shorn fleece is like a giant fuzzy sheep-cardigan.  The belly and butt fur have been removed because they're just too messy to work with, but the rest of the fleece is sheep

... I'd be interested to hear folks' (polite) thoughts in this. Did you know that the numbers worked out this way?

... Thanks to a chronic sinus infection, I've spent far too much of the last few months sprawled on the couch, reading garden blogs.  Reading is great, but it's not the same as actually gardening.  I can never decide if I'm a terribly incompetent gardener, or if garden bloggers are an unrepentant pack of liars. My back garden bears no resemblance to the massive abundance of the photos I've seen on garden blogs. My garden might as well be in a state of suspended animation.  While none of my plants are actually dying, they're not growing either.  Worse, some of these static plants are showing signs of bolting.  This is entirely unlike the lust growth shown by the garden bloggers in Maine or Montana or up by the Arctic Circle.  Clearly, I've been tricked into believing that California is some kind of holy ground for winter agriculture. One of the least-pathetic things in our winter garden are the greens that go by the confusing names of ether Italian Dand

... Robb has been baking bagels which, it turns out, are insanely easy to make.  The dough is super-yeasty, so it rises very quickly.  From start to finish, a batch of bagels takes about two hours.  This is a blink of the eye compared to most other yeasted doughs. The only confusing part of our recipe is the malt-extract bath. The author of the cookbook tells how much malt to put in the water, but doesn't actually say how much water to use.  I'm reasonably sure that we could use our bees' honey, but since we already have malt extract from beer brewing, we stuck to the recipe (as best as we could). I found the entire process stupidly fun.  Bagel dough just begs to be spun around on one's finger. And there's something oddly entertaining about watching the boiling water bubble through the hole in the floating dough. This was actually the first batch.  I think our hole-making skills have improved since this picture was taken.  Bagel making is e

... Join us on Easter (March 31st) for our Somewhat Annual Eggstravaganza! Once again, I'll be teaching the techniques of Ukrainian egg decorating.  We'll make art, eat snacks, drink beverages, and probably set a few things on fire. Think you're not creative, or doubt your artistic skills?  I can teach you!  Keep an eye on the blog for further details. 

... As the days get longer, egg production is almost back at full capacity.  Goofy Lydia eschews the row of nest boxes, and hollows out a crater-like nest in the litter.  From what I've read, chickens tend to lay one egg every 26 hours, meaning that egg-time shifts from day to day. Yesterday, the entire flock decided they needed to be in the henhouse at the same time.  When Robb built the coop, he gave the birds plenty of nest-boxes.  But for some reason, only one of them is popular with our birds. While Lydia nestled meekly in her scooped-out depression, Harriet and Anne Elliot clambered all over each other in one of the nest boxes.  I'd move one of them over to an empty space, and they'd indignantly march back into the Only Acceptable Box .  It's pretty amusing to see two gigantic hens crammed into such a small space. Isabella (the white bird) seems on the verge of laying.  She had to get in on the action too.  Poor little Lydia hunkered down wh