Sticky Fleas & Pasty Butts...

I arrived in December to one of our chickens sitting on four eggs. It was a great homecoming. Within days all three of our hens were sitting on eggs and at times fighting over whose eggs were whose. After a couple of weeks we had right around 20 eggs!

Eventually we would like to get to the place where we are producing eggs to eat but for the time being we are trying to grow our flock so that we have more egg layers. But this hasn’t been as easy as it might sound.

In 2015, we didn’t have one chick live past 2 weeks.

When I saw the eggs, I knew I would personally be giving the eggs and these ladies a lot of attention. I made sure the hens had food and water while they were spending day and night in the coop sitting on eggs.

The day I went in and saw a broken egg my heart sank a little, until I realized the egg had hatched! Each day I would go out and there would be another cracked shell, I would clear it out and try to sneak a peek at the chicks but they remained cozy under their mommas.

One of my first glimpses at the chicks!

One morning I brought out our veggie scraps and as soon as the food hit the floor all the birds got up and I got my first glance at the chicks. I told Nunu I could easily put a chair in the chicken coop and just watch the birds all day.

One hen must have gotten a week or so head start on the other two, because we did have lull in hatchings. As the second round of eggs started hatching the first few were off to a good start but with in a few days I kept finding dead baby chicks! I wasn’t sure what it meant.

I read online about causes of death for chicks and one thing it mentioned was “pasty butt.” Basically it means their poop gets stuck in their feathers and so then it backs up… something along those lines, remember this is all new to me. So I went out with my paper towels and warm water to check their little butts, I had also noticed that one of the baby had been pooped on by an adult and so it’s whole back was poop, the little guy wasn’t looking like he would live. For the poopy back I sort of made a wet paper towel blanket and just let him sleep under it while I looked at the other.

I picked them up and on two of them I found a little bit of crusty something… so I began slowly rubbing with the warm water and paper towel. It was so funny, when I would pick up the chicks they made a bunch of noise in protest but as soon as I started rubbing they would close their eyes and completely relax in my hand.

The poop was a lot harder to get off then I imagine, as the water spread, I noticed something weird… another opening? After a quick search online, I realized I was trying to clean off their belly buttons. =) Not one pasty butt in the bunch! I was able to get a good amount of poop off the back of the other bird but left some as it was really on him. So I was still confused how these babies kept dying!

I went into the chicken coop another day and discovered what I thought was a dying chick under the feed tray. I put him in the nesting area and moved another dazed little guy over with him. I realized later in the day that the chick wasn’t dying, he had actually just been born! 

New born under feeding tray!

Same new born. 

First picture with a chick =) 

Shortly after we realized that the hen whose eggs hatched first was actually pecking the other babies and because they were so little she was killing them. By this time we were down to 8 chicks: 4 of the head hen’s chicks and 4 chicks who were less than a week old. We did lose a couple of eggs, but this hen was taking out the babies left and right. So completely unsure of what to do, I moved the chicks out of the coop and into a bucket of their own. The yellow chick in particular may have already been pecked some, as it was very dazed and not very active on it’s last day in the chicken coop.

Unsure of what to think about their new bucket home.

The next day the yellow chick seemed a little better but it was obvious that the bucket didn’t offer much space. I was at a friends house and they had just purchased a generator and the box was on their porch, one look at the box and I asked if I could have it.

Bucket chicks, doing well and eating out of my hand. 

Bucket chicks in their new box home with
window screen as a top.

Almost 2 weeks later the chicks are still in the box and they are doing really well. I did read online that we shouldn’t bring them back into the flock until they can fend for themselves and even then it should be a gradual introduction. So we might have to build another enclosure or something.

Another sad confirmation that we did the right thing is that one of the bigger chicks died from stick-tight fleas. They are fleas that are so hard to remove, even with tweezers. In the states they have something you use to repel them but I can’t find it here. When I showed Bounassa he said you put petroleum on them. While I hate that idea with every ounce of my being, I could tell the bird was going to die and petroleum was the only chance to save it. We were too late.

See the brown around her eye? Those are
stick-tight fleas. 

The bucket chicks have no stick-tight fleas, which is good because the smaller the bird the more likely they are to die from the fleas. So says the internet. =)

This week I went out the feed the chicks and was happily surprised to find another egg!! I was hoping we would be able to build some nice nesting boxes for the hens but we just haven’t had the time yet. But we were able to find another box and build something temporary! Now they can stay at the Super Star Inn, or so says the box!

 

The eggs pictured above, I put into the box and today
I found a third egg! Yay, the ladies get the point!!

Current Chicken Count:

Roosters: 2

Hens: 3

Chicks: 7

Eggs: 3

Molly

A couple of weeks ago, the day our motorcycle got stolen, CSI:Mozambique, Molly threw up. In the moment I thought nothing of it, but after the bike got stolen, I wondered if someone had poisoned her (sadly this isn’t all that uncommon) to aid in the theft of the bike.

Overall she seemed fine. But a few days later she began walking weird, as if she was drunk. She would look right at me and start to walk and even though she was looking at me she would walk about 45 degrees to the right. It was odd. I thought maybe she had an ear infection and sent Nunu off in search of a vet with no luck. She would have good days and I would think she was getting better. Then it started getting worse and I noticed that her hind legs weren’t really working.

A neighbor dog came over and Molly usually liked to show her dominance by standing over this dog and sort of chewing on her. It’s sort of a thing these two do. Well one day I saw Molly doing this except she was completely leaning on the other dog. Within a few days she was having problems standing up, her front legs would move but her hind legs would not. That night I held her by the belly so she could go to the bathroom and then I laid her in front of our door for the night.

The next morning, I heard her whining and ran out. She needed to go to the bathroom and as soon as I stood her up and helped her to the grass, she went. I knew it was over.

Nunu went out again in search of a vet and finally found him at the shop.

I hate losing animals, and I’m sure my neighbors find it odd that I cried for a dog and maybe the guard and vet found it odd that I insisted I carry Molly to her grave. But as I sit back and try to process all of this… I just keep thinking how easy animals are to love.

No one ever taught me to love an animal. As long as I can remember when I see four legs and fur I just want to befriend, touch, pet and cuddle that animal. I don’t understand how some people don’t love animals that love unconditionally and listen without offering clichés like people so often do, they are just there for you.

It got me thinking, why isn’t it as easy to love other humans? Don’t get me wrong I like people, but let’s be honest… some people are difficult to love. As a Christian, I know that God has called me to love others and so I continue working to see people through God’s eyes: to see the good, to see the specific purpose and gifts He gave to them, to see people as God sees them. 

CSI: Mozambique

It’s the rainy season. Days filled with hot sticky heat but in the distance you can hear the booms of thunder gradually coming closer. Eventually the sky opens up and the rain pours, filling buckets with clear water and cooling off the air.

Tuesday was exactly one of these days, it cooled off and I began looking forward to getting a good night sleep. By 8pm, I was showered and in bed reading, Nunu went out to turn on the generator and as the fans kicked on I was in my happy (cool) place. We asked our guard Bouanassa to shut the generator off at midnight and fell to sleep.

The night was just as any other, a noise prompted me to ask Nunu if he locked the door and when he said yes, I was right back to sleep.

Until I heard Bounassa talking outside, I don’t even know what he said. I looked at my watch, it was only 10pm, I thought to myself, “He isn’t supposed to shut the generator off till midnight.” That’s when Nunu frantically said, “My motorcycle was stolen!”

What! Wait! How? It was sitting on our front porch. Where was the guard? Where was the dog? How did I not hear anything?

Nunu rushed outside, cellphone in hand and he and Bounassa were off. I felt helpless. Honestly I wanted to call 911, but that doesn’t exist here. So I got dressed and put on shoes. I went into the front yard to try to see where Nunu had gone and I shut off the generator, so I could hear if Nunu called for me. I grabbed Molly’s leash and while she apparently isn’t much of a guard dog, she makes me feel safe.

Nunu comes back, no sign of anyone. He is really mad, wondering how a motorcycle could have got passed our guard. We both really like Bounassa but you can’t help but wonder was he involved, motorcycles don’t just disappear. That’s when Nunu goes back to the porch and looks for the tire tracks. He finds them and they lead to the back of our house, not the front. He realizes that someone cut a hole in our fence (chicken wire that we installed to keep our beautiful view and ocean breezes). He goes around our fence and he and Bounassa take off in that direction.

The fence from outside the yard.

I go back in the house with Molly and I walk in circles in our living room, praying, freaking out, praying, I should lock the door, more prayers, I need to do something. I pick up my phone and start typing a message asking some friends to pray with me and as I lift my finger to hit send, the screen on my phone changes… it’s Nunu calling, he found the bike!!!!

But he doesn’t have the keys and with the bike in it’s locked position it’s really hard to move. He asks me to get the neighbors guard (our neighbor is out of town) to bring him the keys as he doesn’t want to leave the bike. I walk toward the neighbors screaming “Guard! Excuse me! Guard” in Portuguese. The only response is two dogs barking and growling at me. We have some friends, Jonas and Erica, who just moved about 200 feet up the road and so I ask Nunu if I should go to them, knowing he is thinking of my safety first. He says I should. I realize Molly is in the house and my best bet for passing the dogs at night is to have her.

I lock the house and Molly and I make our way down the road. I’m calling our friends cellphones as I run in my hot pink PJ’s, while making kissy noises at the growling dogs (I hope someone got a good laugh)… they don’t answer their phones. As I get to the house, their guard is gone and so I’m left shouting for their help.

I hear the deep sleep in their voices as they try to figure out who is calling their names and just what is going on. Now the three of us are on our way to find Nunu in the bush behind our house.

Nunu tells me which way to go and we are blindly going by the light of our cell phones. He says he can hear me getting closer and we keep shining our lights toward each other. Eventually I can hear him clearly without the phone.

Nunu and Bounassa had tracked the tire marks of the bike for about half a mile, maybe longer. And found it sort of hidden behind a bush. I told Nunu that I have a new nickname for him… CSI =)

We have no clue who did this or how many. At the very least 3 to 4 people because they had to lift the bike up over a fence that is a little over 3 feet tall and the only damage was to one of the handle bars, I’m guessing from the impact as they tried to throw it over the fence.

The creepy part of it all is knowing that we were watched. The night before we didn’t run the generator, no doubt in my mind the generator made a great cover for the noise. They knew our routine.

As with so many things here, I hate that we have to go through it but we do learn. We will be meeting with our guards later today talking about how important it is to not get into such a fixed routine. We will have to put up a better fence, one without our beautiful view and we will need to get some dogs that bark! Lastly a block fence will need to be moved up on our priority list.

Thanks to all of you who regularly pray for us, we so appreciate and feel your prayers!

Motorcycle in it's new nightly home, our living room.

Fence two days ago. They had to lift the bike up over the bamboo part!