Chickens hate change.

we're all a little bit chicken

The chicken situation continues to evolve at Quinta dos Galos. The original selavagem flock in the Secret Garden now numbers twenty two, with two hens, Sierra Nevada nad Carmen Electra (who is Sierra Nevada’s hatchling).

Sierra had a bad time of it this spring, constantly piled on by a gang of young roos going through rooberty. Horribly, they were her own hatchlings, joined by the bully Taylor Dane. They killed Betty White, who was a sweet dainty hen that deserved better. I cried when I found her, and when Sierra started looking distinctly battered, with a wound under her left wing, we made up our minds the droogs had to go. Sierra and Carmen stopped emerging for feedings, fearing a pile on.

The time before the evening roost was the worst, as the hens hid in the pampas grass and the roosters loitered nearby, waiting for one of the girls to make a break for it. The hen would run low and fast for the trees but was no match for a half dozen roos that were younger and faster and highly motivated. Sierra is notoriously cranky, but it got so bad she allowed me to capture and carry her to the trees some evenings, so she could flap up safely. When I found a terrible wound under her left wing it was decided - the bad roos had to go.

A ruffled looking Carmen and Sierra, guarded by Sette.

Culling the roos was a terrible job but it had to be done, and the h and I handled it ourselves. I will not describe it further, except to say that now Sierra and Carmen can be found of a sunny day relaxing on the warm calcadas of the palaceta courtyard, something that would have gotten them killed just a month ago. Peace has descended in the Secret Garden once more. By peace I mean, nothing more disturbing happens these days other than hearing a dozen or so roosters all crowing at once morning, noon, and night.

The Eastern flock which lives under the fig tree in the campo we refer to as container flats remains unchanged. Shaun recovered from his dog injury (it was mostly his pride) and is now enormously fat and looks a lot like Jackie Gleason in his bus driver uniform, with a distinct waddle when he’s in a hurry. Jack Black, our oldest roo, will probably not make it another winter, he seems pretty arthritic these days, but is enjoying the warm weather and can be found laying in his favorite places with his legs sticking out so that he looks uncannily like a rubber chicken. He sleeps in the fruit orchard next to a pile of tiles, with his bachelor friend Justin Bieberoo.

Alphonse has totally recovered from his fight with Sette, though remains partially blind in one eye. We had a difficult time figuring out what to do with him, as once he was well enough to walk we took him back over to the Secret Garden thinking he could reintegrate. Alphonse ran right up to his old pal Potsy, who gave him a long cold stare and then attacked him! Poor Alphonse ran and hid. It was heartbreaking. He spends most of his time in a chicken run we constructed in the backyard of the Garden Apartment, where Jackson Pollock constantly tries to provoke him through the chicken wire. I have been letting Alphonse roam free, but as soon as I do he crows, Jackson hears him and comes charging over to challenge him to a duel.

Jackson Pollock calling to Jeannie

Meanwhile Jeannie is content as can be, with three namorados fighting over her, and coming and going in the lower garden apartment as she pleases. If it’s windy, or very hot, or if she wants to lay an egg she simply appears at the back door as is let in. Alphonse will join her becuase he is a house roo - he was, in fact, teh first roo to ever enter the palaceta, just boldly walking in one day while we had the doors propped open. Not to be outdone, JP has also ventured inside, but he behaves badly crapping on the floor in his panic at not knowing how to escape. Alphonse wil park his feather duster butt on Jake’s red sleeping mat, where Jeannie often joins him, and together they gaze into the mirror leaning against the wall. They are either admiring what a good looking couple they are, or wondering who this other hen and roo are and why they are so quiet.

Jeannie and Alphonse now spend their nights in “the new coop” which is located down by the Jacaranda Garden. The coop is actually a small stone outbuilding that we’ve been storing excess tiles in, and has an intact walls and roof and so was easy to convert to a chicken house.

Every evening at 5:30p I scoop Jeannie under one arm and Alphonse under the other and carry them to their coop. They ride along, never struggling to get loose, as they like their new home. Alphonse is thrilled to have Jeannie all to himself all night and they both settle in right away, happy to have a roost bar that faces a chicken-wired window that opens up to the east so they can see me or the h passing by as we walk between the cottage and the garden apartment.

In the morning I open their coop and they flap down to the doorway and I repeat the process backward. I kiss the tops of their heads and they will peck lint off my sweatshirt in response, wait patiently as I open the run then flap in eagerly for breakfast while Jackson Pollock glowers nearby.

During the day Jeannie gets to roam free as Jackson’s namorada. I am trying to convince Alphonse and Jackson to be friends but so far no dice - they are quite jealous of one another, each determined to claim the title of Jeannie’s One and Only Beau. Larry Laryngitis is Jackson’s sidekick, ready to step in and claim Jeannie for his own should Jackson fall to Alphonse. In the meantime Larry is always stalking around ready to pick a fight with Mr. Fancy Pants (Alphonse is our most handsome roo, with a dapper galaxy-printed waistcoat and long blonde surfer boy hair). I have no idea what to do about the situation.

Gwyneth Paltrow is the only hen among the Eastern flock, and there are never any fights. Same with Sierra and Carmen - once the droogs were removed, everyone co-exists peaceably, with a couple of the roos claiming dominion and the less lucky roos just accepting the situation, un-ideal as it is. But Jackson is declaring himself a one galinha kind of galo and Alphonse is saying no way Jose, Jeannie is a one galo kind of galinha and that galo is me…it’s annoying having to constantly break up their fights.

All over the property we have an excess of roos, who seem to intuitively understand that there is a shortage of hens (they were, after all, present when the fox was raiding the flock at night, killing almost all of the hens over one winter and spring). When they are overcome with longing, they will turn to one another for comfort. None of the roos like very much being on the receiving end but they shake it off, none the worse for wear.

The coop flock is now sixteen strong, with ten mostly domesticated hens. I say mostly because Demi Moore sleeps in the coop but will peck me if I try to pick her up (naturally she is Sierra’s hatchling). As I type this I can see little red marks on the back of my hand where she pecks me each time I reach under her for her eggs.

The chefe of the coop is now Chaz. He is sweet-natured as ever but rules the roost with an iron claw, each morning chasing Falcon and Snowman away from the hens. Roos are particularly interested in sex just before they fly up to the roost at night, and just after they fly down from the roost in the morning. Chaz also got Eddie Haskell to straighten up and fly right, but Eddie was already convinced by the sudden disappearance of his brothers Neddy, Freddy and Teddy Haskell, bad roos all.

Kylo Ren is going through rooberty but doesn’t need correction by Chaz - Tiny Little Tina does that job. Each morning and evening Kylo Ren (so named because Han Solo was his dad) tries to mount Tina and each time, Tina chases him and pulls his tail feathers so hard he screams. I hope someday to capture it on film.

We never did find out what happened to Han Solo (who spent his early months misgendered as Princess Leia), who went missing a couple of weeks before Easter. I hold out hope he is living his best life in a coop somewhere in the country presiding over a couple of hens, but I fear he probably ended up in a cookpot. I’m just sick about it, and it’s pretty clear the rooknapper was one of the workers who were in the Secret Garden for a few days, repairing the wall of a neighboring building. We have dozens of nameless wild roos, it just kills me that one of our tamest, sweetest natured domestic roos - our first domestic roo, in fact - met such an ignominious end.

The coop was chaotic all spring as Tiago, Paulo and Pedro rebuilt one of the retaining walls that collapsed under the weight of the rain-saturated ground of the p orchard. The coop flock hated his, and the mama’s hid inside in the nursery while the jackhammers jackhammered and the cement mixer mixed.

The wall repair is just beautiful, we decided to leave the stones revealed, rustic-style (Tiago is a graduate of one of only three programs in the world that teach this kind of stone wall building/repair), and not encased in concrete as they were before. As part of the repair they built a wide stone bench, and I just know once it’s finished I’ll find the entire flock perched on the edge in the evening, grooming themselves before time to roost as is their wont.

The seventeen pintinhos are now old enough to spend the day in the chicken run, where they establish two territories: Delta Dawn with her five and Cake with her six hang out by the coop entrance, while Dottie sticks to the back of the run - her chicks are much smaller than the other eleven, and Dawn and Cake are not above pecking at them if they try to mix with the bigger chicks.

The chicks are still small enough that they can slip through large cracks between the chicken wire and the ground. The other day I wandered up to the coop between feedings and found four babies hurling themselves desperately against the wrong side of the fence, trying to get to their mamas. We were lucky, as not too long ago a hawk, probably attracted by the ruckus of cheeping, flew down and perched like winged death in a pear tree that grows above the coop. All the roos made that musical rumbling sound that is their predator alert. The mamas hustled everyone inside the cop and the hawk flew away, but it was scary.

The chicks are too young to be exposed to roos as of yet, which means the half dozen chickens that roost on the left side of the coop don’t get to re-enter at night until the peep has paraded into the nursery. Yesterday the door to the run fell open and next thing I knew, Chaz and Yella and Eddie Haskell were chasing the hens for quickies, trampling the chicks. It was pure chaos, chicks shooting every which way, shrieking. When Chaz picked up a chick by the neck, I swatted him and he dropped it right away.

Only one of the chicks has a name, La Bianca who is pure yellow with white wings. I try to touch/hold every chick every day so they become truly domesticated. I feel a little sorry for the extra attention LaBianca gets despite trying to scurry out of my way. Of course it doesn’t know the uniqueness of its coloring. I imagine it fears me the same way I feared monsters in my dreams as a kid. I’d hear it stomping toward our house, shaking the ground, covering a huge distance with just three of four strides. My dreaming child’s mind would assure me that something that high in the sky could not possibly see little me hidden under the bed but it always unerringly looked right in my window, its monster eye widening in delight as it found and reached for me alone among all the other fleeing humans.

We are collecting 4-6 eggs every day which adds up fast. We give out fresh eggs every week to neighbor Alberto and the workers, and still have plenty for ourselves. Once the pintainhos are grown, we’ll have seven or eight more hens, and I will have to find more people to share the wealth with. Already Alberto shares out with the baker and the fishmonger and we get all the bread and sardines we can eat as a result. Or maybe I’ll just start cooking with more eggs, however, I’m already stressed by the tyranny of the horta, which at the moment is going gangbusters with the spinach and zucchini.