One of our neighbors complained to us about his crowing, which was loud and frequent. I love the sound, but not every neighbor does. I think even our kids sleep better without him waking them up early in the morning.
The four hens he left behind seemed a little more fearful right after he was sent away. Instead of roosting higher up in the coop, they found more secure spots in nesting boxes. Then a few days later, their little chicken brains forgot him. Now they are back to sleeping on the square hay bale.
Also, one of the little black hens named Susan is brooding! We noticed about two weeks ago that she wasn’t getting off her eggs. She’s been a devoted momma thus far. So, hopefully, in a week or two we will have a couple little fluff balls bouncing around. My fingers are crossed that the eggs hatch (what a beautiful things for our kids to experience!) and that some end up being hens so that Sketch has a legacy here on our little urban farm.
Lately we have let the chickens out of the coop for a few hours in the evening while we are home. Their presence makes our backyard seem like a pastoral oasis in the middle of a hectic urban life. This afternoon, Reagan ran in to where I was folding laundry to tell me that the chickens were acting funny. She said they were lying in the dirt and looked dead, but they weren’t dead because some were moving.
Immediately I feared the worst (since we had an incident with a loose neighborhood dog before). What I found was quite cute. They were happily dust bathing.