Danger from the sky threatens the tiny residents of Oz

It was inevitable.

The first day I walked out to the new Banty Playhouse and saw a row of tiny chickens waiting for me on the front porch, that song from the Wizard of Oz sprang to mind: “We represent the Lollipop Guild . . .“. Not the Lullabye League, mind you; these little chickens may be ladies, but lullabye certainly does not apply to them.

The Lollipop Guild: tough and incredibly cute, all in one pint-sized package

No, the little gents with tough faces and pug noses shuffling along are the ones I think of when I see my little feather-footed chickens who don’t really know they’re small.

Naughty munchkins all in a row . . . plotting how to take over Oz ~ er, Jenotopia

The mini chickens are all settled into their playhouse, so Hen Mama has a bit more time to visit with them and enjoy their antics. I have had people ask me, “Why bantams?” Standard-sized chickens are surely sufficient for the average egg-eating chicken owner, and they are plenty entertaining. Then there is the issue of cracking two to three bantam eggs for every standard one in recipes. Why, then, should I bother keeping smaller birds?

Well good golly Miss Molly, just take a look at this face:

Tempting the wild beast with treats

Bantam chickens eat less than standard-sized birds, and they are easier to keep clean than standards. Their size makes them somewhat easier for children to handle. More importantly, though, bantam chickens are just plain adorable. They move faster than standard-sized birds, they tend to be more active than standards, they come in hundreds of shapes and colors, and their little personalities are sweet, curious, friendly and precocious. Wading into a flock of these bouncing, peeping little munchkins is gooood stuff after a long week at work.

All the gals currently in the Banty Playhouse are feather-footed breeds. Besides having an entire flock with cute, fuzzy feet, the more practical side of the coin is that keeping birds with somewhat similar features helps prevent them from picking at whatever is “different” from the other kids.

Most of the girls are still pullets, meaning they are not yet old enough to lay eggs. Egg-laying usually comes between four and six months of age, depending on breed, time of year they were hatched, and other factors. The four gold-necked Belgian d’Uccles are pullets, but as they are approaching egg-laying age their combs are getting larger and redder. One is even starting to “pose” when I speak to her or pet her, which tells me she may be very close to lay ~ perhaps even in the next week or two.

Gold-necked Belgian d’Uccles in the foreground, and bantam Chinese cochin in the back

Penny Pretty is not quite so close to laying, and she is also going through a bit of a molt (seasonal feather loss) ~ so her face and comb are lighter pink:

Penny Pretty, a bantam Chinese cochin pullet

Even though I am cleaning up lots of fuzzy grey feathers from the coop floor, Penny is still fluffy and huggable. Unfortunately, she does not like to be hugged. She does like to sit with you ~ or on you ~ and enjoy your company, though. Just no squeezing, please.

My secret love: fluffy cochin bottoms

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Sharing a snack: Lucy Liu and two Gangstas

In the picture directly above, you can see two of the gold-necked pullets and Lucy Liu, my black bantam Chinese cochin. Lucy is already laying, so her little curled comb should appear red ~ but as she is my nosy girl, her face and comb are usually covered in muck and food crumbs. Lucy is also a Ninja chicken, and at dinner time I have to be very careful to hang on to the feed cup. When I walk in the coop, a sudden black blur flies through the air and Ninja-kicks the cup out of my hand. She is also known to grab snack bags and run off with her stolen goods ~ and if you ever see a cochin run with those fuzzy slippers, you enter a whole new dimension of cuteness.

Lucy Liu the Ninja chicken: beware the flying kick

Now, this munchkinlike cuteness is all well and good, but as munchkins know, Oz is not without its dangers. February is just unfolding, and January had its share of hard weather. Those animals who do not have a Hen Mama to feed them are finding food scarce, and those who prefer meat are wandering ever-closer to Munchkinland for a look.

A distant speck in the sky . . .

. . . quickly emerges as a beautiful and fierce predator looking for lunch.

Lord Red-tail has visited several times this winter, usually around mid-day. He circles and hovers, possibly wondering what birds are doing living in such fine, color-coordinated quarters. Dame Edna is often the one to call attention to his visits, dependably sounding the alarm and ducking for cover if the larger girls are free ranging in the yard.

This winter we also have a juvenile Cooper’s hawk who does not approach from high in the air. He watches from the trees or flies lower between the pines to sneak a peek at the ladies. He is still young, though, and he always gives away his position with his distinctive peeps.

The sky hunters don’t just appear in the daytime: just the other night RT surprised an owl taking a mockingbird 20 feet from the Banty Playhouse. I am sure the girls heard the commotion ~ and as I have heard Owl calling at night in all seasons, I know he hunts here regularly.

As chicken keepers know, these little birds are relatively defenseless against most predators. Stories of flock loss through predation are very, very common. Our answer is shoring up security through strong coop walls, reinforced vent and window openings, predator-proof fencing, and defense against digging intrusions. Keeping a sharp eye out for entry attempts is also a good way to stop problems before they start. A few simple precautions like this help protect my munchkins from sky-borne dangers (we have water buckets for witches, too) ~ so I have more time to enjoy my little friends and their extra-large cuteness.

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Ah, Munchkinland . . . I can hear it from my kitchen window.