baymule
Garden Master
My grand daughter and I bought 20 chicks that hatched Christmas day. She spent several days with us and we played with the chicks and had a lot of fun-even Papaw!
I would have given that girl $20 if the chick would have pooped on his head!
I told her that we wouldn't keep roosters because we live in town and I don't want to disturb the neighbors. I let her know that roosters would be butchered and she was fine with that. She asked to be there when I butchered them. As it turned out, she and I butchered one at her request, then later I finished up the rest, except one.
http://www.sufficientself.com/forum/viewtopic.php?id=13565
This one chicken was just different from the start. It had one eye. It stayed in the back of the cage and tried to avoid us. It was black and fuzzy and cute. It had a slick spot where all the other chicks had tiny combs. We called it Doofus. I figured out which chicks were roosters pretty early and as time went on, it was obvious that about half were roosters. But this one.......it lost the black fuzz and grew in beautiful blue feathers splashed with red. Yeah, a mutt, but a pretty mutt. When I sent the roos to death row, I kept Doofus safe with the pullets. Was Doofus a roo? a pullet?
please please be a pullet Doofus!
http://www.backyardchickens.com/t/757298/a-riddle-for-yall-what-is-doofus
It became clear that Doofus was a rooster when he grew in those pretty long curved tail feathers. There was no denying the obvious anymore. But remember Doofus is a doofus. Robin, the Queen of the Coop picked on Doofus unmercifully. She pecked him and in terror, Doofus would run into a corner and hide his head while Robin rained down pecks and torture on poor Doofus. I would rescue the chicken-hearted chicken from the wrath of Robin. When I picked him up, Doofus hid his head in the crook of my arm and snuggled in closer. Awwww......
I brought him in the house, held him in my lap, stroked his head...... now how could I butcher Doofus? 
When I startled Doofus out in the backyard, keeping his one eye on me, he ran into the brick wall of the house. 
What a Doofus. What were we going to do with Doofus?
Doofus was living the good life. Plenty to eat and drink, lots of ladies even though he didn't know what to do with them yet. Doofus was the last one out of the coop every morning, then he cautiously scanned the yard with his head cocked to one side, looking for Robin the Terror. We loved him.
All the chickens are watched over by Paris, our Great Pyrenees, a reformed chicken killer. It was a long road with Paris, but well worth it.
http://www.backyardherds.com/forum/viewtopic.php?id=24453&p=1
We let the chickens out in the mornings and enjoy watching them while we drink our morning coffee. The dogs watch over their yard and keep the neighborhood feral cats out of the yard and away from our chickens. During the day, I take my Mom to run her errands, Dr appointments or whatever she needs. I leave the chickens out in full confidence that they are safe.
The guy we get hay from said something about wanting chickens. Bingo! Maybe he would take Doofus?? My husband thought if was a good idea if we traded some pullets for hay and threw Doofus in on the deal. Our grand daughter did too. We all got attached to Doofus and wanted him to have a good home. Mom and I went out to get a round bale and we struck a deal-trade chickens for hay. When we got back home and walked in the front door and looked through the house out the glass back doors and saw.......
Parker was playing with Doofus and not in a good way. I boiled out the back door and Parker knew trouble when he saw it-he dropped Doofus and ran. I picked up Doofus, he was alive, but missing feathers and wet with slobber. I was livid. But first, take care of the chicken. I brought him in and examined him for wounds, even laying him on his back while I lifted his feathers looking for puncture marks. I found one tear on his wing and sprayed the purple stuff on him and on the bald spots too. Doofus was put in the former Death Row cage, now the Chicken Hospital.
Armed with a rolled up newspaper, I went outside. Parker knew he'd done wrong. This dog is brilliant smart, he learns what I teach him the first time I show him. At 1 1/2 years old, and a big puppy, he has the attention span of a gnat, but he learns fast. He wants nothing more than to please us. When he does wrong, our displeasure is the worst punishment. A rolled up newspaper is the pinnacle of terror.
Paris knew things were bad and getting worse fast and she dived under the deck. Parker ran laps around the yard while I said in a mean voice "BAD! BAD! BAD DOG! BAD!" and slapped my leg with the newspaper. Finally he went under the deck. Poor Paris was terrified too and even Polly our Australian Shepherd in the house, was quaking with fear. Momma was MAD! For the rest of the afternoon, I went out every so often and beat the deck with the paper shouting "BAD!" over and over. Several hours later when DH came home, Parker was SO relieved!! He just KNEW his Daddy was going to save him!
DH got Parker by the collar and I got Doofus from the newly converted Chicken Hospital. You could see the Uh-Oh! on Parker's face. I put Doofus in Parker's face, shouted "BAD" and worked him over with the newspaper all at the same time. Parker nearly dragged DH off the deck. Finally DH let him go. I put Doofus up and armed with the terrifying newspaper, I went after Parker again. He ran to the other side of the coop and run. Dh went one way and I went the other. We hemmed Parker up with no escape. DH pointed a stick at Parker and I had the newspaper, all the while saying BAD! over and over. Parker trembled, drooled and looked like he was a hair away from a heart attack. Then we backed away and went inside.
About an hour later, we both went back outside to not be mad at Parker anymore. He was very happy about that. We petted him and talked nice to him. I had picked up a wad of blue feathers from Doofus and I offered him one. He sniffed it and went from happy to that "Oh crap!" expression and turned his head away. He understood. Poor Paris didn't come out from under the deck until 8:00 that night. I praised and petted her and let her know she was not in trouble.
The next afternoon I let the chickens out and Doofus too. I stayed in the backyard pulling weeds and cleaning up. Parker made every step I did. He was trying so hard to make up with me. Once in awhile, I would find a blue feather and show it to Parker. He cringed. That was exactly what I wanted. Good dog. He got petted and praised.
Today the chickens were out and we left for a short time. Before I left, I showed Parker a blue feather and we had a short talk about it. When we got back, everything was just fine. In a few days Doofus will go to his new home with several pullets.
You might think I went overboard on punishment. I don't think so. Parker is extremely intelligent. He jumped on the glass doors wanting in ONE time. Once. I walloped him with newspaper and he has never jumped on the glass again. He peed in the house ONE time. Just once. He learned stay, sit, fetch in about 3 minutes. He learned hand signals in a few minutes. Brilliant dog. I am not some super dog trainer, he is just a smart dog. He is in a loving home, is never mistreated and is happy and healthy. When he commits a serious offense, he is punished by scolding and in rare cases, newspaper. I believe with all my heart that Parker will never, ever "play" with a chicken again.
I would have given that girl $20 if the chick would have pooped on his head!
I told her that we wouldn't keep roosters because we live in town and I don't want to disturb the neighbors. I let her know that roosters would be butchered and she was fine with that. She asked to be there when I butchered them. As it turned out, she and I butchered one at her request, then later I finished up the rest, except one.
http://www.sufficientself.com/forum/viewtopic.php?id=13565
This one chicken was just different from the start. It had one eye. It stayed in the back of the cage and tried to avoid us. It was black and fuzzy and cute. It had a slick spot where all the other chicks had tiny combs. We called it Doofus. I figured out which chicks were roosters pretty early and as time went on, it was obvious that about half were roosters. But this one.......it lost the black fuzz and grew in beautiful blue feathers splashed with red. Yeah, a mutt, but a pretty mutt. When I sent the roos to death row, I kept Doofus safe with the pullets. Was Doofus a roo? a pullet?
please please be a pullet Doofus!http://www.backyardchickens.com/t/757298/a-riddle-for-yall-what-is-doofus
It became clear that Doofus was a rooster when he grew in those pretty long curved tail feathers. There was no denying the obvious anymore. But remember Doofus is a doofus. Robin, the Queen of the Coop picked on Doofus unmercifully. She pecked him and in terror, Doofus would run into a corner and hide his head while Robin rained down pecks and torture on poor Doofus. I would rescue the chicken-hearted chicken from the wrath of Robin. When I picked him up, Doofus hid his head in the crook of my arm and snuggled in closer. Awwww......
I brought him in the house, held him in my lap, stroked his head...... now how could I butcher Doofus? When I startled Doofus out in the backyard, keeping his one eye on me, he ran into the brick wall of the house. What a Doofus. What were we going to do with Doofus? Doofus was living the good life. Plenty to eat and drink, lots of ladies even though he didn't know what to do with them yet. Doofus was the last one out of the coop every morning, then he cautiously scanned the yard with his head cocked to one side, looking for Robin the Terror. We loved him.
All the chickens are watched over by Paris, our Great Pyrenees, a reformed chicken killer. It was a long road with Paris, but well worth it.
http://www.backyardherds.com/forum/viewtopic.php?id=24453&p=1
We let the chickens out in the mornings and enjoy watching them while we drink our morning coffee. The dogs watch over their yard and keep the neighborhood feral cats out of the yard and away from our chickens. During the day, I take my Mom to run her errands, Dr appointments or whatever she needs. I leave the chickens out in full confidence that they are safe.
The guy we get hay from said something about wanting chickens. Bingo! Maybe he would take Doofus?? My husband thought if was a good idea if we traded some pullets for hay and threw Doofus in on the deal. Our grand daughter did too. We all got attached to Doofus and wanted him to have a good home. Mom and I went out to get a round bale and we struck a deal-trade chickens for hay. When we got back home and walked in the front door and looked through the house out the glass back doors and saw.......
Parker was playing with Doofus and not in a good way. I boiled out the back door and Parker knew trouble when he saw it-he dropped Doofus and ran. I picked up Doofus, he was alive, but missing feathers and wet with slobber. I was livid. But first, take care of the chicken. I brought him in and examined him for wounds, even laying him on his back while I lifted his feathers looking for puncture marks. I found one tear on his wing and sprayed the purple stuff on him and on the bald spots too. Doofus was put in the former Death Row cage, now the Chicken Hospital.
Armed with a rolled up newspaper, I went outside. Parker knew he'd done wrong. This dog is brilliant smart, he learns what I teach him the first time I show him. At 1 1/2 years old, and a big puppy, he has the attention span of a gnat, but he learns fast. He wants nothing more than to please us. When he does wrong, our displeasure is the worst punishment. A rolled up newspaper is the pinnacle of terror.
Paris knew things were bad and getting worse fast and she dived under the deck. Parker ran laps around the yard while I said in a mean voice "BAD! BAD! BAD DOG! BAD!" and slapped my leg with the newspaper. Finally he went under the deck. Poor Paris was terrified too and even Polly our Australian Shepherd in the house, was quaking with fear. Momma was MAD!
For the rest of the afternoon, I went out every so often and beat the deck with the paper shouting "BAD!" over and over. Several hours later when DH came home, Parker was SO relieved!! He just KNEW his Daddy was going to save him! DH got Parker by the collar and I got Doofus from the newly converted Chicken Hospital. You could see the Uh-Oh! on Parker's face. I put Doofus in Parker's face, shouted "BAD" and worked him over with the newspaper all at the same time. Parker nearly dragged DH off the deck. Finally DH let him go. I put Doofus up and armed with the terrifying newspaper, I went after Parker again. He ran to the other side of the coop and run. Dh went one way and I went the other. We hemmed Parker up with no escape. DH pointed a stick at Parker and I had the newspaper, all the while saying BAD! over and over. Parker trembled, drooled and looked like he was a hair away from a heart attack. Then we backed away and went inside.
About an hour later, we both went back outside to not be mad at Parker anymore. He was very happy about that. We petted him and talked nice to him. I had picked up a wad of blue feathers from Doofus and I offered him one. He sniffed it and went from happy to that "Oh crap!" expression and turned his head away. He understood. Poor Paris didn't come out from under the deck until 8:00 that night. I praised and petted her and let her know she was not in trouble.
The next afternoon I let the chickens out and Doofus too. I stayed in the backyard pulling weeds and cleaning up. Parker made every step I did. He was trying so hard to make up with me. Once in awhile, I would find a blue feather and show it to Parker. He cringed. That was exactly what I wanted. Good dog. He got petted and praised.
Today the chickens were out and we left for a short time. Before I left, I showed Parker a blue feather and we had a short talk about it. When we got back, everything was just fine. In a few days Doofus will go to his new home with several pullets.
You might think I went overboard on punishment. I don't think so. Parker is extremely intelligent. He jumped on the glass doors wanting in ONE time. Once. I walloped him with newspaper and he has never jumped on the glass again. He peed in the house ONE time. Just once. He learned stay, sit, fetch in about 3 minutes. He learned hand signals in a few minutes. Brilliant dog. I am not some super dog trainer, he is just a smart dog. He is in a loving home, is never mistreated and is happy and healthy. When he commits a serious offense, he is punished by scolding and in rare cases, newspaper. I believe with all my heart that Parker will never, ever "play" with a chicken again.
