We're growing and boy! are we cute.

Our sister, Anna, failed to thrive but we are getting bigger and bigger.  We are both healthy.  My name is  JOJO (I'm the grey one!) and will be moving to a new home as soon as I learn to eat solid foods really well.  My brother is still looking for a home.  His name is Sampson.  We are really cute now and just starting to play.  We still drive our Mom nuts by fussing a lot but she has been a really good Momma and comes running whenever we make noise.

OH *&$%+#@.

I WAS STANDING ON THAT SIDEWALK ABOUT 30 SECONDS BEFORE THIS EVENT OCCURRED.

Milo

On Saturday a farmer friend was clearing out his grain bins for the upcoming wheat harvest and loaded about 3/4 ton of milo into the pick up truck.  Last year at harvest time there was some difficulty even finding the milo and what was found was of inferior quality.  This is really nice grain although it does still have some chaff in it.  The price was right.  Free as long as it ALL goes which means another 2-3 pickup trucks full.  Or he may simply load it in the big truck and haul it here to be dumped in a manner similar to the way the wheat arrived last year (which the wild turkeys interpreted as an invitation to make Prairie House home).

It has been in the 90s here during the day.  Milo is not as heavy as wheat, but much heavier than oats for the same size container.  Oats are easy to move around.  The containers of wheat are nearly impossible for one old lady to move and milo isn't much better.  Milo is itchy, scratchy, dusty, nasty stuff to handle (but the chickens and goats think it is wonderful!).  The heat combined with the misery caused from handling the stuff has caused the truck to be only half way unloaded after two days.  It is a slow process.

Thinking about unloading another 2-3 truckloads is not something to look forward to.  The animals at Prairie House are spoiled something fierce.  How did that happen?

Emma Patches

Missing:  EmmaPatches

She didn't come in when I called her Thursday night.  She wasn't here Friday morning.  I hadn't found a body and she has gone missing before so there was hope she was still out there.  I didn't think she would be returning.  I was sad.  But I'm feeling much better now, as she has reappeared looking only a little worse for wear.  I asked her just exactly where she had been, but she was totally mute on the situation.

We did lose our colorful, docile rooster yesterday.  I'm not sure if the new white turkey killed him or if the new white roosters all attacked him.  He was found dead in their pen.  I think the white roosters may receive some assistance at becoming coyote food as they aren't fat enough to send to freezer camp. They are not enjoyable creatures.  Miss Turkey will also be moving to new digs under the mulberry tree by the garden.  She will have more room there and can scratch in the dirt and eat the weeds.  Moving her there could be a challenge because she is really, really heavy.

We also lost one of the Royal Palm Toms to unknown causes.

Spring has been tough on the creatures this year.

On a positive note, Momma hen still has all 3 of her chicks.  They aren't cute anymore.  AnnaBelle's 3 kittens are growing and active.  Their eyes should be opening any day now.  Then the fun begins.  They all have homes elsewhere when they are old enough to go.  That is good.  It is easier not to get attached to them when they are short timers.

Speckled Communist Americauna Rooster

I am often exasperated by the chickens at Prairie House.  I'm on a Yahoo group to share/commiserate with others in the same situation. I enjoyed this post so much I must share it.  The Americaunas are the chickens that lay the blue/green/olive eggs and mine are troublemakers as well.

Thanks, Jack, (Orioneer) for making my problem chicks seem so civilized.

"I've got a speckled Communist in the April 23 piece of the flock that's
giving me no end of headaches. A Communist, or maybe worse, an
anarchist. An independent free-thinking bird that's a leader teaching
the others to range so far I'm not even sure they can find their way
home.

He always tries to sleep in trees, first alone, then next night with a
pack of others following the example of Mr. Trotsky. This might well be
the most hard-headed, most obstinate chicken I've ever encountered. 
Nothing works to get this comrad back into the fortress at night, except
hitting him with the water hose to wear him down so's he'll park
somewhere I know, then coming up on him after it's too dark for him to
avoid capture.

This morning he's got maybe 15 chickens somewhere out there in the deep
woods right now so far out I can barely hear the practice crowing [or
trying to sing The Internationale - it's too far to tell which]. I
hunted them down in the woods to the east earlier and edged them home. 
So they went west this time.

I think I'd better start thinking about putting in an order for more
chicks. No more straight-run orders for me. All pullets from here on
unless I'm ordering cochins, buff crested polish, or heritage.

I'm thinking this one's going to outsmart himself and get offed right
out of the flock gene-pool if it continues. I'm just hoping he doesn't
take any others with him when nature does what it does to the cheeky
lieutenants just out of OCS who know too much to learn.

He ain't even old enough to be a 90 day wonder.

Good chicken though, generally. I'm going to hate to lose him."

Jack