Fat Bastard Flees

So, the chickens. Gab's new love and light (yes, I am a bit jealous, just a wee bit! they get their lovingly chopped up leftovers before I get my morning coffee...).

We hadn't been back a week yet: the friday only 3 days after our return, still jet-lagged and groggy, we hauled ourselves off to the Montichiari farmer's market at 7 in the morning. (note: market for farmers, not of farmers, nothing to do with the pomo sunday pocket market...!).  We asked at every chicken seller until we found one selling bantams (dwarf chickens, bred specifically for sitting on eggs, then when we are ready to have lots of chickens, we can hatch them ourselves).   We brought home five of them, still to young to tell which were cocks and which were hens.

They stayed in an enhanced cardboard box house for 3 days while Gab built the finest little chicken house in Villa, all out of reclaimed material we had lying around.  Just to give you an idea, these chickens have a terrace balcony with its own roost.  There's a pulley system so we can open the door from our bedroom in the morning...  Its a really nice little chicken house!  (the roost isn't added yet in the picture -- those boxes on the side are the nests, for when its time to sit on eggs).

Everybody says "don't name the chickens", it will be harder to eat them after.  But we couldn't help it, they started naming themselves.  There's the lead cock, AlPacino (he's tiny, he's white, he's american, and badass).  There's the cowgirl americanella (breed), "speckled annie", and I keep expecting her to get her gun.  Or at least do anything I can do better.  There's two hollandese (breed) that aren't particularly interesting, so they are alpha and beta.  And then there's fat bastard.  He's fat. He's a bastard.  What more can I say? Oh, he's also dutch. He's double the size of any of the others in only a couple of weeks.  In spite of his size, though, and in spite of many pecks and fights, Alpacino rules the roost.

Yesterday was the historic moment -- they had been living in the house for more than a week, the fence was finally completely up and secure.  It was time to set them free!  It took only a minute or two for them to realise that they could actually come out (beta was the last, she was...ummm...chicken).

They pecked around, explored, picked bugs and worms.  Mia's rabbit brownie came to keep them company for a while.  The cat showed enormous interest (we'll have to keep an eye on that!). And come sundown, like clockwork, they headed back all into their house for the night.  Well, most of them did.  We did a final goodnight check, and Fat Bastard was missing.

Gab looked everywhere, shook the hedge, looked under the woodpile, tromped all around the enclosure trying to find him or wake him and make him show himself.  Oh no!  We thought they were still too small to fly.  Not Fat Bastard.  (note: bantam chickens actually can fly, they are bred to have a low body weight since we don't eat them or want eggs from them, no farmer wants to spend too much money on their feed, and thus the ratio of wing to weight is enough that they can kind of hop-fly up into trees and such.).

Oh well, maybe he'll come back tomorrow, when he's hungry and thirsty.  Then, getting ready for bed ourselves, we went out on the bedroom terrace and guess who was there fast asleep, roosting and pooping on the terrace railing?  bastard!  told you so!  We grabbed him, and clipped his wing feathers right away (About 5cm off the end of the wing and they don't feel it at all)   No more flying for you boy.

And this morning he was there, bright eyed and bushy tailed and ready for breakfast.  This morning: wheatabix and milk, canteloupe and pasta.