Henny Penny Farmette

Up at seven o’clock today meant I caught the sunrise while letting the chickens out of the hen house to forage around the farmette in frigid temperatures.

Basted turkey is ready to slice

I got a good head start on prepping the turkey today. I popped it into the oven by 7:30 a.m. before starting the other side dishes like cornbread stuffing, butternut squash with cranberries and cinnamon-spiced nuts, and the other vegetable and appetizers.

The pumpkin pie is made. I only have to make homemade whipped cream for a dollop on top. Last night, I whipped out two versions of cranberry relish–the traditional stove-top relish and the other made with fresh cranberries.

Cubes of butternut squash with dried cranberries and cinnamon-spiced almonds and just a hint of honey for a little sweetness

The fresh cranberry relish was exceedingly easy to make–two small pippin apples and an orange right from my backyard tree, plus three cups of freshly washed cranberries. I washed the apple and orange, cored the apple and removed the seeds from the orange. Then I just pulsed everything together in a food processor, poured it all into a glass jar and put it in the fridge.

So all the food goes into the car around lunchtime. We’ll serve it at my daughter’s home where the rest of our family will gather together to give thanks for our blessings. We’ll pray for those far from home and those without a home and the less fortunate on our planet.

Some have ordered my novel,  A BEELINE TO MURDER, for me to sign. I’ll give them jars of lavender honey as a thank you.

God bless you, my readers. Happy Thanksgiving.

For more tips on farming and beekeeping, plus delicious recipes, check out my newest mystery–A BEELINE TO MURDER. See, http://tinyurl.com/p8d6owd

The yellow-colored Buff Orpington hen seemed so cute when she was all down and a day old.

But six months have passed, the Buff-O has feathered out and gone broody. Today, she showed me a nasty-tempered, cranky hen, with ruffled feathers who will stop at nothing to hatch the clutch of eggs she’s sitting on.

The problem is that some of those eggs in the nesting box aren’t hers, and they’re all unfertilized since we have no rooster.

From left to right: Furry Face, the Ameracuana, and Buff-O, the Buff Orpington, when they used to sun themselves together

Buff-O has been sitting on the clutch of eggs for almost three weeks now, barely leaving to eat or drink. But today,  she exited the hen house to take dirt bath–that’s how chickens clean themselves. Toss on the dirt, roll in it, then get up and shake like a dog, flinging the dirt in all directions as far as possible.

Before the fight started, all nine of my hens were foraging on our property,  except for Buff-O and the  shy Ameracauna with the furry face. The latter was in the chicken run, scratching the dirt, minding her own business.

I saw Buff-O walk over and lunge at Furry Face in attack mode. She used her beak to viciously peck Furry Face’s neck and her clawed toes to tear at the poor shy chicken’s back. She seemed more rooster than hen.

I ran for the hose and separated the two with a spray of water. Then, with both out of chicken run and into the yard, I gathered up all those unfertile, soon-to-be-rotten eggs that Buff-O has been trying in vain to hatch, and headed toward the garbage can.

But apparently, tossing those eggs changed nothing. Buff-O is back in the hen house on the nest–albeit, a different nesting box than before. But the straw in the original nesting box is still warm. It’s being occupied by Furry Face. Go figure!

The sound of the chickens squawking propelled me upright in bed. The sun wasn’t up yet but there was a ruckus going on in the chicken house. And it didn’t sound pretty.

I leaped from bed, staggered to the window, pulled up the blind, and looked out.

I know she’s thinking, “I’m not coming down until that fox is gone.”

The foxes had returned. One stood on its hind legs, pawing at the double layer of poultry wire screwed over the open chicken window.

I yelled, “Get out of there!” hoping the fox would leave . . . but it didn’t. It just made the chickens squawk louder.

Throwing on my robe, I raced to the patio where my red, rubber (indestructible) clogs waited for my feet to slide in. Grabbing the broom and a two-by-four, I raced to the chicken house, yelling all the way.

This time the fox paid attention, but showed no interest in retreating. I waved the broom and pounded my board against the metal garbage can (in which I keep the 25-pound bags of chicken feed). The noise did the trick. Off went the fox to join the other two.

The three disappeared into the wooded acre of land behind our property. Finally, my chickens settled down. I let them out for the day. One deposited her egg–not in the nesting box–but on the ground, as if too freaked out to go back inside the hen house. Well, can you blame her?

The chickens made such a ruckus this morning, I thought they were having trouble with a rodent in the hen house. My architect husband built the sturdy hen house off the ground.

He installed windows for air circulation and to cool off the chicken house at night. Good idea, we thought. Maybe not.

One of three gray foxes that have been checking out the chicken house at dawn and in the late evening

The windows open (to let out the heat) through screens. But foxes and open windows present a clear and present danger for the chickens.

We believe these two are gray fox pups

When I first spotted the foxes on the uninhabited acre of land behind our farmette, I put extra poultry wire over the chicken run and over the hen house windows.

Fox pups play while their mom keeps watch

Each night, I secure the iron gate between the properties. The foxes were close this morning. I couldn’t say whether or not they’d go over the fence, but I took some shots with my camera before they spooked and left.

To outfox the foxes, I added extra roofing to the chicken run and inspected the fence all around to make sure there were no holes or weakened areas where the foxes could dig under.

We’ve placed a call to the local wildlife shelter and are hopeful that a representative can help us understand why the foxes are in an urban area (maybe in search of water and food during this intense drought) and whether nor not they will rescue the lovely little gray fox family, which is our hope.