Chickens and Snow, Lots of Snow

If you live anywhere in the northeast or have watched the Weather Channel lately, you know that Connecticut has broken all kinds of records for the most snowfall in January.  While it's not much compared to what I used to deal with as a teenager in Ithaca, New York, in a Connecticut chicken's world, the snow is over-whelming.  I figure it will all be melted by the end of May at this rate.

With each new snow deposit, we shovel a path going from the chicken coop to our deck, a safe haven for the chickens now that the resident Hawk with a capital H knows we have a drive-through for raw tenders.  I put an extra supply of food and water under the deck daily to encourage the chickens to remain under the deck during the day.  They have dirt to scratch and protection from the worst of the precipitation and the gusts of wind.  More importantly, they aren't very accessible to a diving hawk or even the ground predators who are kept at bay by the fear of our Golden Retriever.




Mumbles, the Snow Queen

The hens who are laying take excursions to the coop to leave their eggs.  With the shorter days, only about five of the thirteen girls are laying eggs.  As night falls, the chickens go home to roost by following each other single file along the path from the deck to their coop.  With any other places the hens used to like laying now inaccessible, the snow is a good training tool to teach the girls to use the nesting boxes provided.   

Jay feeding old tortilla shells to the girls from the deck

I took some pictures of the chickens walking along their path to demonstrate how high the snow is for them.  I would guess it's like walking through a maze.  They have learned that if they flutter up and off the path, they will certainly sink in the snow and be stuck there until a human comes to the rescue.  Not a safe situation if a human isn't home or doesn't notice before a predator does, although they do look pretty funny.

Chicken's Point of View

Waste Management Large and Small

One may think that since I spend a good portion of my cat-care time cleaning up after them, I would be pretty sick of scooping poop.  Excrement is a fact.  "Everybody Poops" is a bumper sticker seen on a plumber's truck.  Sung to the tune of Camp Town Ladies, "What's in the bottom of the chicken coop?  Doo Doo!  Doo doo!"  No only do I clean multiple litter boxes, every morning I scoop the chicken caca out of their nesting boxes so their eggs have a clean place to land during the day.  Jay has provided a bucket for dung disposal so he can easily transport the chicken waste to the garden for composting. 

I blogged on April, 29, 2009 about my adventures with waste management and kittens.  Lately, I've been challenging myself to take on even more crap.  I started working as a volunteer a couple of days at week at Beech Brook Farm Equine Rescue, a farm that fosters and rehabilitates horses who would otherwise end up in a Mexican slaughterhouse.  The farm has 10 rescue horses, 4 miniature donkeys, 1 mini-pony, 2 goats, a bunch of chickens and a barn cat named Shadow.  The cause is noble, the work is daunting.

Main Barn with Shadow the Cat as the Resident Greeter

The horse rescue is a non-profit organization that relies on volunteers and monetary contributions.  Most of the volunteers are middle-aged women like myself, looking for way to reconnect with their childhood love of horses.  I suspect the bulk of it is financed personally by the owner, Debra, and her husband.  She told me the other day that she spent $17,000 last year just on hay.  I was attracted to the farm as a way to be around horses again without having to pay for lessons.  As a young girl, I was fortunate enough to have a pony and graduated to a horse as I grew.  Ever since I sold my horse before going to college, I've struggled for a way to stay connected to horses.  Oddly enough, one of my favorite smells is that of a horse barn.  I love the aroma of the hay, horse sweat and manure.  Vegetarian caca doesn't carry nearly the same punch as that from a carnivore, so I don't find it offensive like I do cat and chicken dung.  Well, chickens aren't exactly carnivores, more omnivorous actually, but they leave behind a lot of little stinkers. 

Thus far, my job at the barn is to muck out the stalls and paddock areas of the three barn areas and work with the horses as time and weather allows.  The owners have "real jobs" so although they feed and water, they need help during the week.  Beech Brook doesn't have the best set up I've seen; the property is on a steep, wooded hill, with upper, main and lower barns and paddocks carved out in the trees.  Two of the areas are just three-sided shelters with paddocks. The only area I'd call a pasture is probably about an acre.  The owners' home is nested in the middle of the hill, between the upper and lower barns. 

Upper Walk-in Barn

While I use a plastic pooper scooper to transport kitty waste to the garbage can outside in a plastic bag, at the barn I use a multi-tined pitchfork to rake and shovel horse manure into a wheelbarrow which I then push up the hill to the manure pile.  I try to speed up as I reach the dumping pile to get enough momentum, flip the wheelbarrow up and hope that most of manure falls out.  Then I have to twist the wheelbarrow back and forth on its wheels to shake the rest out.  My asthma usually kicks in during the wheelbarrow part, especially with the cold weather.  When it's wet outside, my jeans get splattered with horse excrement.  When it's freezing, I have to kick the manure piles loose with my boot so I can get the rake under them.  Sometimes the piles are so frozen, I can't break them up without fear of breaking a toe.  Of course, there's always the horse supervision during the process which involves maneuvering through the snow with a wheelbarrow loaded to overflowing with crap, a pitchfork balanced on top and not allowing a pushy beast to escape for a romp through the woods. This is waste management at its best.

The Manure Pile

Bugger's Fame

I was finally able to pick up the January issue of Cat Fancy Magazine a couple of weeks ago.  I don't subscribe to it, but since my 7-year-old stud cat, Woolly Bugger, is pictured on the back cover promoting Arm & Hammer Cat Litter, I've been stalking the magazine racks, flipping through the collection at Borders and any pet supply store.  Bugger's ad has also been reported to appear in other magazines as well; Health, Family Circle, Country Living and People.  Of course, when I showed His Highness the ad, Bugger simply pushed it aside.  I was blocking his food dish and the big boy has his priorities straight.

Bugger's intense glare earned him the name of "Spike" from Arm & Hammer

A couple of questions have come from those who have seen Bugger's portrayal of "Spike", a tough-looking cat who denies that his "stuff" stinks, presumably because Arm & Hammer is that powerful a litter.  First, no we don't use that brand.  I did buy a box after we did the photo shoot in June, just to see if I was missing out on a good product that costs less than World's Best Cat Litter.  Well, guess what?  My cats' stuff still stinks, and the odor of urine became more obvious with Arm & Hammer after a few days and overpowered the deodorizer in the litter.  Not worth it in my multi-cat household.  I went back to World's Best and Agways Pine Pellet Horse Bedding (similar to Feline Pine but less expensive at Agway). 

Another question is whether I really put a collar on my cat.  No, I don't do cat collars, nor do I recommend them for indoor cats.  That was Photoshopped in with the overly full litter box.  Collars aren't a bad thing if it has a quick-release closure, but it damages the fur around the neck of a long-haired cat.  A collar mark would only raise eyebrows at a cat show. 

Bugger at home, answering fan mail

The last question I get was how much money Bugger made.  As I blogged about in Kitty Spotlight originally after we did the photo shoot, the $250 check I finally received was offset by the $115 parking ticket I found on my car that day.  The net profit pays for about two week's worth of cat food and litter at my house.

I have enjoyed my cat's moment of relative fame, of course, but it seems the owners of his many offspring have also.  Bugger has been breeding for over 6 years and has produced 129 kittens.  He gets all the fun and glory, but doesn't have to pay child support.  My kitten buyers have been the ones reporting back to me if Bugger's ad has been spotted in a new magazine.  Nino is a year-and-a-half old daughter of Bugger owned by Lauren and Michael who sent me this response to their cat's famous sire.

I have no idea how long Arm & Hammer will keep "Spike" in  print, but I hope it'll be quite a while because this is kind of fun.  If you happen to see the ad, please let me know which magazine and issue it's in.

Pa in His Kerchief and I in My Cat

Hey, to those of you who have told me privately how much you like my blogs, Thank You!  I've been waiting for the next blog topic to come to me, but nothing other than the above title and a few other random thoughts are in my head lately.  The title comes from our current situation with mother cats, kittens and our master bedroom.  We have Trifle and her two kittens, Laverne and Shirley, and Cassie's Thanksgiving Litter of four.  Trifle is a bit stand-offish, but an incredible mother.  The kittens from her first litter with Bugger all turned out with very gregarious personalities, not at all like their mother's, so the breeding was repeated.  I trust that Laverne and Shirley will also be fearless, affectionate kitties.  I've blogged a few times before about Cassie, how she's my favorite and why.  Well, when I am sharing a room with Cassie, I love her so much that she is allowed to get away with things the other cats don't. 

Me with Cassie

Leaving the care of her kittens in the bathroom with Trifle, Cassie's nightly ritual is to curl herself around my head on my pillow.  After my turn is over, she does the same for Jay.  Jay is less enamored with this behavior than I am, even after I remind him that back in the olden days the bedrooms were so cold people had to wear night caps to bed for warmth, so perhaps Cassie thinks she's doing us a favor in keeping our heads warm.  Jay's hair is much thinner than mine so I'd think he'd appreciate the kitty cap more. 

Trifle and Cassie's Litters at 6 and 4 weeks old

Another habit Cassie has that is common in Maine Coons; curling up to sleep in the cool bathroom sink.  The sink contains her perfectly and gives her a mommy break from her demanding kittens.  Cassie seems to need a lot more breaks than Trifle does, but I've seen both mothers nursing all six kittens equally.  I've had water-obsessed cats before and they are frankly a pain when I am trying to brush my teeth and the cat gets in the way by trying to get water coming out of the faucet.  I usually lose patience with these cats and push them aside so I can brush and spit in peace.  With Cassie, however, I can't bring myself to get her out of the sink when she looks so pretty and peaceful sleeping there so I brush less often.   I should take charge, rouse her up and out of my way.  Instead, I think I'll put a toothbrush in the downstairs bathroom.

My Holiday Newletter

I emailed my annual newsletter to everyone who has a cat or kitten from me.  If you were supposed to get this and did not, please let me know so I can correct your email address in my contacts lists.  

Happy Holidays to the Dracoonfly Family!

As I resorted to last year, I’m emailing rather than snail mailing out my annual holiday card and newsletter to save on postage. I hope everyone and their cat family members have had another wonderful year. This is normally the time of year when I receive lots of photo updates from you all. It’s always a major feat if I get to post adult pictures of an entire litter. I try to be organized enough to get them up on the Pictures pages of the website under the names of your kitten’s mother, along with their baby picture so be sure to check there to see your cat. If you sent in a picture and I didn’t get your cat up, please remind me as I lose track of my emails more easily this time of year.

If you haven’t been reading my blog or stalking my site regularly, then you may not know how Dracoonfly has made the news this past year. I took Bugger and one of his son’s, Copper John (formerly known as “Boston”) to NECN this summer for an interview I did about Maine Coon cats. Here’s a link if you’d like to watch on your PC. Plus, Bugger’s modeling debut is finally out in print in the new Arm & Hammer Cat Litter ad as their new spokes cat “Spike”. So far, his ad has been sighted on the back cover of Cat Fancy, and in Health, Country Living and Family Circle magazines. Get your autographs now as Bugger will be retiring from breeding later in 2011 and become a regular pet, as soon as our new young studs, Downy and Bates, prove themselves. Bugger’s lion-like look will continue on with his many breeding offspring.

As a reminder, please be careful to cat and kitten-proof your house, especially during the holidays. One of our kitten buyers had a close call recently with her cat Ceilidh (pronounced “Kay-lay”, formerly Jennyanydots). Ceilidh swallowed a plastic fastener, like those used to attached price tags to clothing. The fastener cut through her intestinal wall, requiring major surgery and the removal of part of the intestine. Thank goodness her owners had pet insurance to help with the tremendous expense of Ceilidh’s surgery and she is recovering nicely. That being said, don’t be afraid to put up a tree if you celebrate Christmas. We cut our own every year and have only had it come down once (not the cats’ fault; it had a twisted trunk). Our breakable ornaments are hung at the top. Unlike in the attached Simon video, most Maine Coons aren’t really into climbing the tree, just knocking down ornaments and drinking the tree’s water.

Rather than my own photos, this year I’m attaching a couple of the Christmas pictures I’ve received recently from my kitten buyers.

Lady Antebellum



Killian

Have a wonderful holiday season and please give your kitties a hug from me.

Sharon

Thanksgiving Day Kittens

I knew Cassie could have kittens any day last week, with Day 63 of gestation falling on November 24th, Thanksgiving Eve. Historically, Cassie has been my least reliable breeder so the fact that she was even pregnant was momentous for me.  She is a cat that never seemed to cycle, but managed to go into heat when I sent her out to a friend's stud just to see if anything happened.  In the beginning, I would room her with Bugger, in case she was having silent heats, figuring he would be able to detect what I couldn't see or hear from a normal cat in heat.  Not all cats howl when in heat, but an experienced eye notices behaviors like increased vocalization, affection, and the tell-tale sign of her rear in the air, tail to the side (did you notice I used three different spellings of the same word in that sentence?).  If unsure, normally stroking her near the base of the tail brings forth the posturing known as lordosis behavior in which her back becomes concave.  This is kind of like the effect that high heels have on an upright mammal trying to look sexy.  A woman wears her FMP's*, looks good, her rear sticks out, she can't walk very fast and her feet hurt, but the men come a running just like a tom cat.

But I digress.  Normally I wouldn't keep a cat like Cassie in my breeding  program, but her personality and type (meaning a good physical example of the Maine Coon standard) are something I'd like to reproduce, especially her personality.  I've blogged before about Cassie and have declared from the time I got her that she would always stay with us, if not as a breeder, then as a pet.  She has only had one viable litter and Cassie is three-years-old.  In order to keep my numbers down, all other females who retire from breeding are placed in pet homes after being spayed.  Cassie is so demonstrative with her affection that she will jump from the floor into the arms of strangers, she reaches up to be picked up like a small child, she is just....special.   Her only fault is that she gets terribly carsick so her show career got cut short after I spent an hour cleaning poop out of her fur at a show.  Her other fault is that she has had a hard time conceiving kittens. 

This Thanksgiving, the kids were at their dad's house so Jay and I had invited friends over to celebrate.  We couldn't go anywhere because of Cassie's expected delivery.  I slept little the night before Thanksgiving, waking up every couple of hours to make sure Cassie wasn't in labor.  That morning, she acted like she was content to stay pregnant forever, ate breakfast and tried to sneak out of our bedroom several times.  Jay and I got busy cleaning and cooking.  An hour or so later, I came into our room to find Cassie and her newly delivered kitten on the rug. 

I yelled out the door to Jay, "We're having kittens!" so he'd know why I suddenly disappeared.  Of course I should thank Cassie for getting me out of the bulk of the cleaning as Jay finished it.  That's right ladies, my husband finished cleaning the house, changed the litter boxes and cooked the turkey, stuffing, and mashed potatoes while I sat on the floor and waited for kittens. 

The first three kittens arrived quickly then labor seemed to stop.  She had looked like she was carrying five so I expected more.  I palpated Cassie's sides and felt at least one head.  After an hour, I suspected we may have a stillborn as a dead kitten doesn't release the natural oxytocin to stimulate contractions.  I gave Cassie a shot of oxytocin to help things along, something I'd never do unless a cat had already delivered a kitten so I knew her cervix was fully dilated.  Some breeders think that when it takes a kitten a long time to deliver and the result is a dead kitten that it was killed by the delay in the birth canal.  My vet explains it differently.  The birth canal is very short, shorter than the length of the kitten. The delay in birth is more likely caused by the lack of enough oxytocin necessary to produce strong contractions.  Obviously, all the kittens need to come out or the mother could develop an infection.  Sure enough, the fourth kitten was stillborn, its cause of death was gastroschism, an unfortunately occasional birth defect we see when the abdominal wall doesn't completely close up before birth. 

I still felt another hard head yet to be delivered and Cassie's contractions were sporadic and unproductive.  Fearing the worst, I gave her another shot of oxytocin after waiting 30 minutes.  Nothing.  Contractions every 5 minutes or so, but that's not frequent enough to produce a kitten.  Not wanting to push the man-made oxytocin, I decided to help Jay downstairs and revisit Cassie in another hour.  I considered calling my vet, but hesitated because I didn't want to disrupt her Thanksgiving preparation.  My guests were on their way and received regular play-by-play on the delivery.  They were hoping to watch the birth and the way things were going, they may just get that opportunity.  I should mention that my guests were also cat breeders and Cassie fans so they were naturally intrigued.  Only cat breeders and midwives can talk placentas and amniotic fluid while eating and not lose their appetites. 

After peeling the sweet potatoes and putting them into the Crockpot, I checked on Cassie.  Bingo!  She had just delivered another kitten on her own and she was a live squirmy little thing, born about 2 hours after the rest of her littermates.  Further palpatation revealed that Cassie was finished with the hard part.

Now that I knew we had four live babies, I could critique them.  Cassie is a ticked torbie, meaning she lacks the classic or mackeral stripes on her body like the traditional Maine Coon.  I'm not crazy about the ticked pattern, but it does look pretty on a silver or a red as the cats resemble a fox's coloring.  To me, most of the brown ticked tabbies look like mud.  Well, the whole litter is ticked.  With the exception of the blue ticked girl, their coloring is akin to watered down chocolate, like a Yoohoo chocolate drink.  As their coats come in, these kittens should be beautiful warm brown ticked tabbies.  See the Maine Coon Breeders and Fanciers site for examples of the ticked tabby Maine Coons in different colors.  My current plan is keep a female, ticked or not, so I at least have a Cassie daughter to carry on that winning personality. 

Thanksgiving Day Litter

Coming up with call names for a litter born on Thanksgiving Day, names like Pilgrim, Pocahontas, Chief Powhatan, John Smith, etc. were suggested.  However, most of them sounded masculine and I had 3 girls to name.  So I focused on the word "thanks" and my guests helped with the translation into various foreign languages; Spasibo (Russian) for the one male, Gracias (Spanish), Danke (German), and Merci (French) for the girls.  

Cassie Cleans Up Her New Kittens

*FMP - initials for F... Me Pumps

Cooperation (or Who's Going to Raise the Kittens?)

Many cat breeders will plan the birth of litters close together, just in case the mother of one litter needs help from the other mother.  Other breeders find this difficult to do if two females don't get along or they don't have the space.  When you read or watch news stories about how a mother dog or cat adopted a wild baby animal like a fox, skunk, squirrel, rabbit, etc, the reporters always express surprise that an animal would choose to nurse its natural enemy or prey.  The maternal instinct is incredibly strong and shouldn't be underestimated.  A crying baby calls to a new mother like no other, even to the point where my cats once came to the defense of one of my distraught baby chicks.

The first time I planned two litters together was for the simple reason of giving my stud male the confidence to breed.  I wrote about this in my blog "Cat Sex Therapy 101" Bugger was intimidated by Sassy because she'd bullied him as a youngster, but he grew up with Ginger and felt very comfortable with her.  I let Bugger build up his confidence with Ginger so that he felt "man enough" to breed a very willing Sassy two days later.  Eleven kittens resulted between the two of them and after a few growls and hisses, the two moms agreed to combine litters for space reasons.  Since Ginger had seven kittens and Sassy had four, I figured it would help Ginger's kittens to have a foster mom and even out the load. 

Sassy and Ginger with Their Combined Litter of Eleven

The most likely time a kitten will need a foster mom will be when it is a singleton, an only child.  It is not uncommon for the mother of one kitten to feel disconnected from her offspring.  One theory is a single kitten does not trigger the same hormonal release a normal sized litter does so the new mom goes into heat again very quickly, her body telling her to move on and get pregnant.  Also, since cats are designed to have multiple births, she instinctively feels like the kitten won't survive anyway.  If no other lactating queen with similar aged kittens is available, the breeder is left with bottle feeding and filling in for the mother, often with a decreased survival rate.

My black tortie, Amy, started out with 3 singleton litters in a row.  She went into heat by the time each kitten was two weeks old and Amy was ready to move on.  Luckily, each time I had another litter arrive a week before or after Amy's so she had another queen to take on her mothering duties.   The most memorable combination of litters was between Amy and Boom Boom.  The two queens couldn't look more different physically; Amy a small, dark, busy cat and Boom Boom, the largest breeding female I've had, 16-pounds, long, beautiful coat, somewhat shy.  Boom Boom delivered first as I recall and a pregnant Amy jumped right in to assist with the birth.  Initially, I found Amy's interference a nuisance, but I noticed that Boom Boom really didn't mind the help.  Amy cleaned up the kittens and Boom Boom.  All Boom Boom had to do was push.  They made a beautiful working team.  Later the two were very happy to nurse each other's kittens. 

Boom Boom and Amy - a Terrific Team

My cats have also fostered other breeders' litters, sometimes a singleton, sometimes an entire litter if the mother was sick.  Most were from fellow Maine Coon breeders who needed a lactating queen.  The funniest of these was when we took on a completely different breed, a sable Burmese from my friend Priscilla.  He was a singleton, his mother had lost interest in him and he was failing.  I warned Priscilla that I wasn't sure if I could save him since he had no suckle reflex anymore.  Ginger had a litter of 3 red males at home who were two days older than the Burmese.  The Burmese is one of the smaller breeds of cats, so you can imagine how a week-old kitten looks.  I called him Mouse.  When I first introduced Mouse to Ginger, I held him carefully, not sure how she'd react to a such a different-looking kitten.  She sniffed him and looked confused.  Then Mouse cried a little kitten meow. "Oh! It's a kitten!" Ginger immediately started licking the little guy.  Mouse thrived with Ginger's care.  She seemed to know he needed extra attention and kept his whiskers trimmed down to his muzzle, the way the Burmese do.  If Mouse cried, Ginger came running. He was louder than his Maine Coon brothers and developed more slowly, but he played just as rough and developed into a very confident Burmese cat.  Ginger and I were heralded as Mouse's saviors that year and I made lots of friends in the Burmese world as the word spread of Mouse and Maines.

Mouse the Burmese with His Maine Coon Brothers

Our current litter combo was one initiated by the mother cat.  Olivia had her litter of five in the cat cage in our bedroom since that offers more space.  I like to keep the cage door open so the moms can use the litter box in our bathroom, further away from my senses at night.  Trifle's litter of two were in the basket in my bathroom, two weeks younger.  Last week, I found Trifle in the cage, happily nursing Olivia's kittens while Olivia stood by looking perplexed.  The two litters are combined now and the mothers tag-team most of the time, with Trifle happy to carrying most of the load and Olivia glad to let her.

Trifle and Olivia et al