#Golden comet chicken

[kerlonia]

Golden comet chicken

#GOLDEN COMET CHICKEN FREE#

Hens feathering color varies with brown, black, redish and white feathers. This strain will start to lay eggs at a younger age than most standard breeds and produce large to extra large brown eggs.Īs chicks the cockerels are white and the pullets are more brownish red in color. Golden Comets are docile birds and extremely easy to work with. And when it comes time to put some meat on the table, a larger chicken would be your best option here.Īlthough the emphasis of this article is on egg-laying chicken breeds, which is the greatest priority here, other characteristics, like foraging or brooding, may also be of special interest.Beautiful friendly Golden Comet Pullets for sale, these are a sex-link hybrid chicken and should have a productive egg laying career. They are birds that are broody, birds that forage well, types that are excellent layers, and from a pure sustenance standpoint, birds that are big enough to make them worth-while eating.Ĭonsider that birds which brood well will keep your flock healthy and populated.Ĭhickens that are excellent foragers make the best free-range types, and those that are hardy egg layers will always keep you in eggs. And if that’s all you want to do, there is certainly no problem with that.īut, there are other characteristics that may also come into play, and they at least deserve to be mentioned in the same breath. Raising chickens just for eggs is a very practical way to have your yolk and eat them too. Chicken Breeds That Lay Blue, Green, Pink, White, and Other Egg Colors.Here are some other articles you might want to read about raising chickens: It is thought, by many, that the best chickens and the tastiest eggs are produced by free-range birds, and as long as they have a shelter for the night, you can have free-ranging chickens that will survive and flourish. This works best on farms that have several acres of land on which the chickens can roam. You’ll need a little more space than a city backyard, but a suburban yard or a small farm would work well.įree-range can be a very large penned-in area, perhaps an acre or more, or as the name implies, free-range anywhere around your property. Movable pens allow constant foraging in different areas and fresh greens. You can make either a permanent pen, with a small indoor shelter in which to roost or lay eggs or have a movable pen that can be picked up and moved from place to place. Pens are a great way to keep your chickens outdoors yet give them ample space to move around. If properly insulated, this can be a year-round chicken house. There should be a little bit of a yard area outside where the chickens can stretch their legs, and this may be a good area for feeding and watering. In virtually any backyard, unless perhaps in the heart of the city, a chicken coup can be erected where the chickens can be housed. Egg productions (annual)Īlthough the listed chickens here are some of the most popular and best egg layers of them all, you’ll have to determine which kind suits your own personal needs.Ĭonsider the available land space, how much you want to care for them, a little or a lot, their overall disposition and what you are going to do with all of those eggs! 1. However, in contrast to their size, Sussex chickens don’t need big spaces.īe careful when raising Sussex with other breeds. One of the heaviest layers, not only because they lay more than 250 eggs per year but also because the females weight almost 8lbs on average. They tend to bully others and sometimes eat their eggs. One thing, though, Australorp is not the easiest to raise with other breeds. If you’re a total beginner, Australorp might be the best choice for you. Egg productions (annual)Īustralorp chickens are one of the human-friendliest chicken breeds, they lay a fairly high amount of eggs, they have quite a lot of meat, and their color is just gorgeous.

#GOLDEN COMET CHICKEN FREE#

However, their coats are fluffy and retain moisture, so they will always need a place of shelter, and they don’t fly very well, so if they are free ranged, predators might become an issue. They are best in a confined setting, like a penned-in area or a coup, but under the right circumstances, they also make good free-range birds. Granted, this is an egg-laying chicken breed that is only capable of about 150 eggs per year, but if you have kids, or if you are actively interested in a chicken more for its docile nature, this is a wonderful choice. What’s not to like about a Buff Orpington? These are big and beautiful birds that actually make great pets.

[tonkikiosk]

Golden comet chicken

The anticipated lifetime is 10– 15 years, but 7 is typical for a lot of dual objective types. They are crossed mostly for the convenience of sexing chicks at hatching, all female chicks being golden, but additionally good egg production. The Golden Comet is a cross bred: New Hampshire and White Plymouth Rock, both hearty twin purpose breeds. These chickens originated in the USA as well as they were established with the intention of production adequate supply of eggs throughout the country. The type of chicken established as a result of breeding pure New Hampshire fowl and a White Rock hen. What age do golden comets start laying eggs? Watch on them, because when they hit 16 weeks, they simply might stun you with your very first egg! Origin Unlike other types, Golden Comet chickens are chilly durable (in fact, they do excellent with extremes of both cold and heat) and also you’ll likely have eggs all year. If you’re not planning on eating all these eggs instantly, having an ideal storage unit for them all is a must. Golden Comets lay brown eggs, and also they’re so prolific (they go down between 250 and also 320 eggs annually), that you can anticipate to have a fresh egg in your coop for each hen you have practically every day. In effect, to maintain your flock of you require a flock of White Rocks and also a number of New Hampshire roosters. If you intend to ‘develop’ a Golden Comet, this is the pairing you require. Remember the initial pairing was a New Hampshire fowl over a White Rock hen. You will certainly not get Golden Comet chicks from Golden Comet chickens, the spawn will be cross types. This is where the ‘crossbreed’ component comes to be vital. it has actually been bred out of them so if you intend to hatch out some chicks you will have to fire up the incubator. Real to their reputation for manufacturing, these girls can begin laying at 16 weeks and will continue to be extremely efficient as much as around both year mark, afterwards egg production will leave significantly. They have the ability to put out a whopping 330 eggs annually– that’s practically an egg everyday! They can lay from 5-6 eggs weekly which places them comparable with the Rhode Island Red hen. Golden Comets are superb layers of tool to large brownish eggs. As adults, hens are reddish brownish and also white, as well as fowls are all white to white with a scattering of red feathers. Female chicks are bronzy buff color with stripes, and men are light yellow. They are superb around kids and are a great novice type for anybody wanting to start their very own backyard flock of chickens. Golden Comet chickens are sociable with strangers as well as don’t mind being held by a person they have never ever satisfied before. In the video clip, Marsala attempts to bully one of the meaties and also as soon as Rosemary, the Golden Comet, saw what was happening, she moved away. They are rarely entailed in “arguments” with other chickens.Įven when they were more youthful, both Golden Comets in my flock never obtained involved in any scuffles. They will certainly stroll right up to you just because of the easy reality you are there.įrom what I have actually observed in my own flock, when there is a scuffle going on, the Golden Comet hens are nowhere around it. The chickens are incredibly pleasant as well as curious concerning everything they see. My chickens don’t fuss in any way when I pick them up. Speaking from my own individual experience, this breed of chicken is very laid back. They get along and also proactively pursue forage. These energetic birds exhibit confidence and also persistence. Regardless of which name you know them by, this info will relate to all due to the fact that they coincide chicken breed. Some of the alternate names that you might hear for this type of chicken are: These chickens go by other breed names as well. These chickens seldom go broody so hatching eggs from this breed will certainly need to be completed through an incubator. The resulting chick will certainly be a second generation of mixed breed chicken. A Golden Comet will certainly not create an additional Golden Comet if her eggs are hatched that have actually been fed by a Golden Comet rooster. The one actual downside to this type is breeding itself. As a result of their smaller size, they are ruled out an excellent choice as meat birds. The hens are seldom larger than four extra pounds and the fowls seldom get to a dimension above 6 extra pounds. Golden Comet chickens are a smaller type that makes them good for egg manufacturing just.

[sayhowdycountrycritters]

Meet the chicken ladies, our fourteen laying hens.

[cum-villain]

never get a golden comet. yknow those really jacked guys who are pure protein, testosterone and rage? picture that in the form of a chicken.

[coneygoil]

Look at these cutie pies 🤎🧡

[ightham]

memorial post for my favourite chicken, Marigold. she was a 3 year old golden comet, and one of the friendliest chickens ive ever known.

[vergess]

give me your most controversial chicken opinion

My most controversial chicken opinion won't be controversial at all here on Tumblr Dot Org because it's a leftist chicken opinion which is that chickens are the ideal food animal for any and all non-grazing spaces and we should Pigeon-ify them even further until they are everywhere we are (pending environmental studies of course I'm not a monster). Until everyone knows their own Chicken Guy.

Disperse the birds!!!!

When presented with the question of a highly accessible, digestible protein source, you're not going to beat a chicken for ease of cleaning, food to weight conversion, ease of keeping, etc etc you just aren't gonna, people have been trying for centuries and unless you live in a heavily wilded area with gamefowl chickens are simply, necessarily the way to go forward in democratizing food access.

In terms of an opinion that would be controversial here on tumblr dot gov dot UK: While my personal favourite breed are Brahmas, I think the "best" chicken breed is, without question or reserve, the modern sex link hybrid, the Golden Comet.

Simply an unbeatable bird. Ideal for all skill levels and production scales. Friendlier than many dogs. Lays prodigiously. Honestly quite clean as long as you offer a sand bath.

You really cannot go wrong with a golden comet, despite them being basically a factory produced bird available in bulk at any farm store. There's a reason they dominate so completely. They aren't even particularly sickly, since they are all first generation hybrids.

Basically the only reason not to get a golden comet is if you are doing your own breeding, as they don't breed well and aren't broody.

Well, that or you aren't interested in raising chickens, of course.

[caseadilla111]

I'm Not Scared of Death - Chuck Grant

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a/n - hiya, this is my first time writing something like this and I am not the most confident in my writing yet, hopefully this isn't too terrible but I wanted to write something a bit out of my element. Inspired by a lyric prompt I saw on here by @prxttyvixens and wanted to take it for a test run myself. Please go check out their page and work! They are GREAT!

oOoOoOoOo

I could feel the rush of my blood throughout my limbs, ending in a throb when it reached my head. My left palm was warm, it felt like someone was holding me, petting my hand, comforting me. I could hear mumbles that resembled voices, but the ringing in my ears overpowered them, I couldn’t make out what they were saying.

Flashes of my life before the war began to roll out before my eyes like the film reel they put on for us so many times before. I could see myself running through the woods, chasing my friends with sticks, pretending we were soldiers amongst the trees. I saw my mother, licking her thumb to wipe dirt from my forehead. I saw my sister holding my hand as I danced with her at our aunt’s wedding. I saw myself floating on my back down stream in the creek, eyes shut and slipping further and further away from my family on shore as the cool summer breeze kissed my skin.

Suddenly I was 17 again. I was not scared of death. I was walking along railroad tracks and playing chicken in the street and diving off of the high rocks at the lake near Veterans Park. I was carefree, careless even, I was alive.

I heard the mumbling voices around me again. I wish this damn ringing in my ears would stop; it’s giving me one hell of a headache. I could feel the rush of my blood throughout my limbs, down my legs to my toes, up to my waist then to my chest, stretching to my arms and fingers, looping its way back up to my head and ending in that throbbing sensation again.

The reel of my life began again. This time I’m older. Glimpses of uniforms and screaming eagles flashed by, foaming golden ales sloshed in their glasses as I sang, with Liebgott to my right and Tab to my left. Now I’m floating, or falling rather, along with thousands of toy soldiers in the sky, round parachutes deployed carefully cradling each one of us down to the cool lush earth. The ground below lit up here and there, and just as my feet touched the grown, the grass turned to snow and frozen dirt. Warm coffee in a cold canteen cup was handed to me, the canopy of the straight trees above our heads was bare, a blue and yellow flare lit the sky for a moment. It was like staring at a comet, or a meteor and I was nothing but a prehistoric beast waiting for my untimely end.

It was night now, and I was in a hole in the ground. The earth shook, it sounded like I was in the middle of the grand finale of the local Fourth of July fireworks show back home. A rifle now replaced the cup of joe in my hands. I looked off into the rows of exploding trunks in front of me and saw a smaller, younger version of myself, running with sticks, chasing my friends, playing soldier amongst the trees. For a moment, the me from the past stopped and looked in my direction, smiling before disappearing behind the shrapnel and earth a mortar round brought up in the wake of its detonation.

Suddenly I was 17 again. I was not scared of death. I looked it square in the face.

I could feel the rush of my blood throughout my limbs, and the throbbing at the end of this rush was muted now but still present. Voices continued to mumble but the ringing in my ears was barely easing up. I felt that same warmth on my left palm and a warmth on my right shoulder. I heard a voice, louder and closer this time, so much so I almost made out what it said. The voice was accompanied by a squeezing sensation of my left hand. I wanted to speak, I wanted to clear my throat from the sick taste of copper, I wanted to open my eyes but I couldn’t, and I wanted that goddamn ringing to stop. I felt a pressure in my head for a moment, and then that film reel of my life kicked on again.

I was sitting in a bar enjoying a beer and good conversation with two younger soldiers. Laughs were had, our thirst was quenched, and we loaded into the topless army issued jeep to head back to the rest of the company. I was driving, sharing the funny bits of my war story with the new guys, giving them the pleasure of knowing the one and only Wild Bill and his take-no-shit attitude. In front of us there were bright lights pointed head on. I squinted, told the newbies to stay in the jeep, and got out to help the soldier seemingly stranded on the roadside. That was at least what I assumed as the lights continued to blind me from the scene sprawled out at my feet. Once I could see clearly, figures lay on the ground, though I couldn’t make out their faces nor their clothing nor their bodies. They were blurs in my mind, censored blurs of flesh and grey coloring. My head moved in slow-motion between the two figures on the ground, my vision began to double as I looked up at the soldier in front of me, who was now just as blurred as the figures laying below. Just as my eyes set on his shape, the soldier raised his arm and pointed at my face. I couldn’t quite understand until I saw the black object in his hand. I made sense of what I was staring at even if my eyes couldn’t see. I heard a pop.

I could feel the rush of my blood throughout my limbs. Suddenly I was 17 again. I was not scared of death.

[theladyofbloodshed]

Part One ¦ Part Two ¦ Part Three

Part Four - Cassian has a fever... and there's only one bed

A bruised purple sky had taken up residence above Cassian’s head. It had been snowing steadily for a couple of hours, but he could not go inside that cabin and bear witness to the sad life she had been condemned to. Why couldn’t he take this mortal to Prythian? There could be a place for her at the library. Her life would pass quickly like a comet streaking past the stars, but the thought of her spending every day alone here in misery was too much to bear. Rhys would scold him. Mor would make him bring the poor female back, likely traumatised. Az might see it from his perspective. He had in the past, when they were boys, and Cassian kept bringing home stray dogs and abandoned kittens, determined to give them a home. Az had been the one who helped him smuggle them into the house, past Rhys’ mother and into the bedroom. A female full of fire was decidedly more difficult to sneak home.

It had been a productive enough day filling up the log store for her. Cassian had felled a couple of young trees, throwing his shoulder behind them to help them crash onto the frozen undergrowth. For all of her fire, Nesta was a skinny thing with arms like twigs. He had to chop logs to half of the size he’d handle just to accommodate her weakness. There was no obligation to ensure she had a supply for winter but Cassian did not want to think of anyone suffering through a bitter winter. He had been there many times, knew how painful and miserable it could be. He would not wish it upon any, even a half-wild mortal.

When his hands glowed red from the cold, he finally entered the cabin. A blast of heat hit him. Nesta was tucked up on her bed, squinting slightly at the book she read under the dim light. A broth was simmering on the hob. It was more water than substance.

He sniffed at the steam. ‘Where’s the meat?’

Nesta stilled. She shared the same exasperated expression that Azriel often wore, though she was more dramatic with it. ‘Can you explain what aspect of exile you are struggling to comprehend? I cannot be in my village. I rely on the odd basket of food being dropped off to sustain me. Winter is hard. There are few vegetables. And as for meat, does it look as if I have a farm nearby? Do I look as though I am tending to the fields at dawn?’

One measly carrot chopped into thin slices floated in the broth along with chunks of potato. Cassian said nothing, merely slipped his boots back on to head out into the dark.

They were close to the Wall. There were holes in places that he could fumble through to find the Spring Court, but there was an expansive forest to pass through. He settled for the human villages instead in search of food. His magic was still lacklustre, sputtering like a rarely used tap. Without his wings, it was foolish to even approach the mortals, but he wasn’t having Nesta starving either. His movements were far more sluggish than he wanted. There was an ache in his shoulders, right down to the tips of his wings. Keeping them upright was beginning to fatigue him. He put it down to the ash still.  

Treading carefully, Cassian found a farm. He left a golden coin out of politeness in one of the chicken coops once he’d pilfered their supply of eggs and wrung three necks. It wasn’t late enough for families to be sleeping, so he avoided the homes with yellow lights illuminating them. One that was shrouded in darkness had a fairly good supply of food. Another coin was left for this family and Cassian had seized jars of pickled fruit and vegetables along with fresh ones.

When he set all the food down on the table, Nesta had stared at him. She stared and stared.

‘You’re a thief.’

‘I gave them coin!’

She gnawed at her lip, the scab still running through the centre of it where his wing had hurt her. ‘Coins won’t fill starving bellies. I don’t need all this food.’

‘Nesta, if those baskets stop coming, what will you eat?’ The female remained silent, her eyes wearied as she catalogued the jars of food he’d carried to her table. ‘I’m not having you starve.’

She surveyed him with that cool gaze of hers then jerked her chin to the narrow kitchen counter behind him. 'There’s tea for you.’

It was peppermint again and gloriously warm enough to chase the frozen feeling that had stiffened his fingers.

After he had drained the first cup, Nesta had tipped her had back in laughter.

Dread flooded his veins. ‘Have you poisoned me?’

The corner of her mouth curved into a smirk. Nesta did not answer immediately; instead, she resumed her systematic plucking of the chicken whose neck Cassian had wrung earlier. Her movements were rapid. The feathers were discarded into a pile ready to be repurposed.

‘Isn’t a bit too late to ask me that?’

‘Is it poisoned?’ He asked again, nausea rolling his stomach.

‘No.’ Nesta’s fingers were well-practised in preparing the chicken. It had been plucked quickly then she was preparing it on the side, not flinching at all from the innards. ‘Once you fill up the wood store, well, be on your guard, soldier. I’ll have no more use for you.’

Cassian chopped vegetables and add them to the broth. He was pleased to see Nesta using nearly all of the chicken; the bones were used for stock, the protein-rich gizzard added to the stew and the skin was hung over the fire to crisp up as a snack for them. The remaining two chickens were hung outside in the snow storm. It was coming down heavier now, the wind howling past the wooden walls of the cabin. Despite the fire, Cassian felt cold all the way to his bones.

‘Maybe I’ll stop filling up the wood so you have to keep me forever.’

The rhythmic sound of her knife hitting the chopping board ceased. In a quiet voice, she said, ‘You’ll be sick of me in a couple of days.’

‘I don’t think that’s true, sweetheart.’

She had rolled her eyes then added the chicken to the pot and let it simmer. Cassian caught her wrist before she could move by him. Her skin was so soft yet cold despite the fire. Her gown was not suited for winter. When Cassian returned to the Night Court, she’d be left to fend for herself. He had not seen proper winter boots nor a hat or scarf. Any other female would jump at the chance of returning to their families, but Nesta seemed in no hurry to return to her people. It shouldn’t have made him worry. This female should have meant nothing to him. She did mean nothing to him. It was his conscience telling him not to leave her unprepared for winter.

‘How did you know I was a soldier?’

‘Witchcraft.’

Cassian could not help himself from drawing her closer to him. She was weak where he was powerful, but little force had been required for her feet to edge towards him. There were mere inches between their bodies, and still he cradled her wrist with his bear paw.

‘With your size, I did not think you to be a graceful dancer.’ Her grey eyes roved over his face, snagging on the faint scar running through his eyebrow. ‘You have likely earned your tattoos – and your scars. You can cook too. Only men - mortal men - who have served in the army know how to cook.’

The observations on him were stunning. She’d sized him up well. ‘Anything else?’

‘You keep your boots tidy. You picked up my dress. And you said nobody had hit you so either you’re a soldier or one who gets into bar fights often. I think the former.’

‘I’m the general of my court’s armies.’

‘A general? And you still managed to be shot three times by mortals.’ The derisive snort Nesta emitted made his temper surge.

‘I was distracted.’

‘By?’

‘Nosy females.’

Nesta shook her head, mirth still brightening her expression as she filled a pot with the snow that had settled on the window ledge then began heating it on the stove. Just that sharp blast of cold that entered with the opening of the window had him trembling again.

There had been movement from Hybern. Their emissary, Amarantha, a foul sadistic female, had invited herself to Prythian. Although not their concern, Rhys had wanted a sweep of the mortal lands in case any of Hybern’s forces were pressing below the Wall. Cassian had been so concerned in his attentive search at finding hostile fae that he’d missed a mortal watch tower. Its fire had roared to life, signalling to the next post that a fae was spotted. He’d deliberated. It was always a mistake to second-guess his instinct, but he had to choose between snapping the neck of the next male at the next signal post or fleeing. To be a killer or a coward. It resulted in three arrows clean through his wings. He’d managed to fly a little further then hit the ground, get airborne, hit the ground, until the pain wracked his body too much and he’d landed on Nesta’s roof.

‘Can I use this?’ He was unsteady on his feet as he approached the bed. His teeth were beginning to chatter despite the flames leaping up to the chimney. With the speed that Nesta was throwing logs on the fire, she would get through her wood store in a handful of days.

‘Whatever for?’

‘I’m cold.’

A pain bolted from his groin to his stomach. Within that pain, was a strange sensation of pleasure. Too much pleasure that it hurt.

He whirled round, wrath seizing him, to haul Nesta off of his wing which her hand had been massaging, and pressed her against the bed.

His pulse had leapt. Hers too as it thumped against his arm. He had one arm wrapped across her chest, clinging to her shoulder, and the other held her hip against his body. Cassian was ready for her movements so never allowed Nesta to stamp her foot. Her heel flicked up aiming for his groin again, but this time, Cassian wedged her foot between her legs.

‘Get off me!’

The bitter taste of fear could be scented from the female. That fear pierced the red mist that had threatened to swallow Cassian. He was large and strong where she was tiny and mortal. Nesta was still bent over the bed, the mattress cutting into her ribs as Cassian kept her pinned. She had said she was a maiden; it was a comment that he had not paid attention to then. Now, he was acutely aware of the trembling body trapped against his own.

What the hell was he doing?

He relinquished his grip and stepped away, expecting fury to greet him.

With a pale face, she backed towards the wall, clutching a hand across her chest. She blinked quickly, trying to hide the silver rimming her eyes.

He’d terrified her.

***

The man dropped to his knees, regret drowning him.

‘I’m so sorry. So sorry.’ Cassian’s fingers flexed towards her then he withdrew the hand, thinking better of it. ‘Did I hurt you?’

It had scared her more than anything. One moment, her fingers had been inspecting the wound then he’d hurled her at the bed. It was a reminder that this fae was dangerous. Nesta was little more than a fly for him to swat.

‘Nesta, did I hurt you?’

She could not take the pain in his hazel eyes. This man could hurt her. Any man could. But this man had spent hours in the snow chopping food and stealing food for no reason except to help her.

‘Just made me jump.’

Cassian dipped his head in submission, black hair sweeping across his shoulders. She moved a step closer and lifted his chin with two fingers inspecting his features. A sheen of sweat lined his brow and his skin was duller than the morning.

‘You’re unwell.’

‘I’m freezing,’ he complained.

‘Sit at the table,’ Nesta ordered, frowning slightly. When he was sat, she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. ‘You have a fever. I’m boiling the water to clean your wounds. Will you attack me again if I try to clean your wings?’

‘My people are taught from birth to guard their wings.’

‘Fae?’

Cassian dutifully removed his shirt on her orders though he shivered despite the searing heat of his skin. ‘Illyrians. We’re lesser fae. Looked down on by high-fae. My people have wings and rounded ears.’

Nesta stroked her thumb against the curve of his ear. Like a cat, his eyes closed at the touch.

‘When you touched my wings, I thought it was an attack. I didn’t hear you approach. That never happens. Wings are sacred to my people. Not even a casual lover is permitted to touch them.’

Involuntarily, her cheeks heated and she found herself unable to meet his gaze. ‘You let me touch them last night.’

‘To clean them. Don’t worry, sweetheart, you’re the only female that’s ever had that honour.’

‘And how many males have there been?’

He shook his head with a laugh, but Nesta saw the exhaustion creeping into his expression. She hauled the blankets from the bed to drape around his front while she cleaned his wounds. It should have been done in the morning, but he’d seemed to heal much quicker so Nesta had presumed he was well.

The puncture marks on his beautiful wings were healing well. The skin was thinner, almost translucent as it repaired itself. Each time that her fingers touched his wings, she felt herself tensing in case an attack came. Cassian gripped the blankets to his chest, fighting against the urge to move her from his wing.

The worry was the wound in his shoulder. The arrowhead might have been dipped in poison for all she knew – Nesta wasn’t a healer. What she did know, was that the wound was infected. The skin was red raw and burning at her touch. The scab was black in parts and oozing in others. She washed it as best she could with the boiled water, using more tea tree to flush it out. There were no herbs here to make a salve so Nesta had to hope his magic would spark to life and heal him quickly.

When she presented a bowl of chicken broth to him, Cassian murmured a thank you but he ate slowly. There was a quiver in his hand as he brought the spoon to his mouth.

‘I didn’t think fae got sick.’

Cassian shook his head. ‘Our healers are skilled enough that we don’t often.’

Nesta watched with pursed lips as he spooned another few mouthfuls in, each one slower. His eyes had shut.

Only Elain had Nesta ever done this for. With surprising ease, Nesta prised the spoon from Cassian’s hand then fed him a mouthful of stew. She continued until the bowl was empty. Spoon after spoon went down his throat as she held his face.

Against better judgement, Nesta was peeling off his trousers and hanging them up by the fire before guiding the fae into her bed. Sweat stuck his black hair to his scalp, but still Cassian shivered as she tucked the blankets around him. She ate her stew alone at the table, keeping a wary eye on him as he slept.

The snow storm barrelled around the cabin like a juggernaut. Each howl of the wind had Nesta moving closer to the fire place. It was strange to consider how natural it had felt to move alongside this winged fae. Even in such a tiny space, Nesta had not felt as if she needed space from him. Their cottage was only slightly larger than this but she and her sisters were at each other’s throats constantly. It was a novel feeling.

Once Nesta had eaten, she added another gnarled log to the fire and slipped into her night gown. There was no possibility of her sleeping on the ground without any sort of blanket. The alternative was squeezing into the narrow bed with a fae – but this fae was snoring and his face was slick with sweat.

Using only the glow of the fire, Nesta climbed into the bed. She read for a time, comforted by the crackle of the fire and the whoosh of the wind hitting the side of the cabin. In between turning pages, Nesta pressed a damp cloth to Cassian’s brow. He shifted so that his wings were against the wall. The movement made her chuckle; even in sleep, he protected them. It did mean that his face nuzzled towards her arm seeking the wet rag to take the sting out of his fever.

When the fire was no more than embers, her eyes closed too.

[homeofhousechickens]

Hi, I was wondering if you could help me identify what’s going on with one of my hens, I hope it’s not too bothersome to ask for advice.

I have a golden comet that’s about a year and a half old and feels swollen in the abdominal area. It’s only noticeable if you pick her up or feel for it, and she’s been like this for several days.

I’ve tried to do research, but nothing seems to narrow the possibilities down. The hen isn’t fatigued, isn’t walking funny, and isn’t refusing to eat or drink. Her comb and wattles look normal and she’s breathing fine. She’s active and doesn’t appear to be in any pain, and the only problem I’ve noticed is that she finds perching and being held to be uncomfortable.

I doubt this will end happily, but it’ll make me feel better if I could identify the problem or find a way to ease any future problems she experiences.

If you have any ideas or advice, please share.

Sadly production layers are prone to fluid build up it is a secondary symptom of a bigger problem usually stemming from their heart or inflammation in their reproductive system.

A vet will be able to tell the difference but this can be treated, its just treating this is expensive and most people can not spend that on a chicken. A vet should also be able to show you how to drain the fluid which will help keep her comfortable.

If its a heart problem there is medications she can take that can help, if its a reproductive problem usually it is treated with antibiotics, anti inflammatories, and a hormonal treatment to prevent egg laying usually the implant or the shot but some people have their hens oviduct removed which solves the problem long term.

[sayhowdycountrycritters]

All fourteen of our chicken ladies roosting; snuggled up and ready for bed.

[lei-moonshine-sunshine]

Celestial Band AU Lore

Elizabeth is CC now. Circus Baby is now Circus Boy for Micheal. Henry and William killed all those kids. William led the two of them and killed Charlie as a threat to Henry because he wasn’t doing exactly as told (asking questions, resisting some things) Henry started to comply nicely after that and even got more into it. Mrs. Afton is their business partner and takes on Henry’s cannon role. Ballora was made for her since she complained about not having her own springlock suit at one point (it happened too many times). Mrs. Afton’s parents died shortly after William did and she inherited their house. Eventually would move in there rather than stay where she lived with Will bc there were too many memories of her kids there. Evan moved in with her after the SL incident.

The animatronics✨✨ (Glamrocks are still a work in progress)

Freddy Fazbear - Moon Bear

Bonnie Bunny - Sun Bun

Chica Chicken - Comet Circinae

Foxy Fox - Star Starling

Golden Freddy - Harvest Moon Bear

Golden Bonnie - Golden Sun Bun

[jcsontodd]

so yesterday when we got the golden comets and isa browns, the guy was talking abt how quickly the guineas have gone lately as well as just chicken sales in general -- because egg prices here are ridiculous, so people have started doing backyard coops and stuff even though with us, chickens have been a goal from the start -- mom was talking abt chickens before we even had the house built. I think next will be getting the goat(s)? I’d genuinely like a dairy cow like my cousin’s cow Mable (who is the sweetest lady) but also mom wants angora rabbits maybe?

but back to the guineas, mom wants some of those because they’re fairly good layers but they eat a lot of ticks and while Blue gets regular monthly preemptive medicine for fleas, ticks and heartworm, but the less we have near the house, the better since we could track them in or she could to the indoor cats.

but also I’m really excited about bringing Calcifer (an outdoor cat that my cousin and my mom have both confirmed will be coming home with us at some point) home!! he’s a super friendly boy :(

[survivalpreps]

I'll start with the more standard breeds and I'll go off from there. First up is one I owned a year ago that ended up being eaten by something. But I won't bore yall with the specifics on that.

This is buttercup she's a golden commet breed. Her breed is what's called dual purpose meaning used for both egg and meat production. I got her and her sister who's a different breed both from Tractor Supply. They tend to have the common and more popular breeds in-house but you can order chicks online from them and other suppliers. Golden comets are a good starter breed in my opinion and aren't much different in looks than the cinnamon queen breed that is also popular. Giving that this breed is by no means a large breed it will still yield a good sized carcass for eating.

The most popular breed in factory farms is the Cornish cross and they are by looks alone not a healthy breed. Some factory farms use the golden comet or cinnamon queen instead of the Cornish cross but the conditions they're kept in aren't amazing by any means either. Though some producers have switched techniques and started to somewhat free range their birds.

The golden comet is a great bird. Mine was very curious and loved to walk inside when we let her or if we left the back door open too long. They may peck experimentally but they don't mean any harm by it. It's the way they explore the world around them.

If you plan on getting any chickens make sure you get at least three I feel that they prefer having a couple friends especially during their first month of growing. They usually only allow 4 chicks at the lowest but if you plan on getting two or more specific breeds on the same day from different stores like I did with my new girls then they may make an exception of two at a time instead. Keep in mind though that they can possibly get sick by doing this. I was lucky enough to not have that problem with mine and they usually get medicated feed at the store to help prevent that.

I'd also recommend starting them off with the medicated chick crumble feed. That way they'll start they're life healthy. One thing about livestock is that their vet bills tend to be lower than normal pets. Because they feed us and are mass produced almost. My mother was surprised that our goat Oreo's bill was so low when he went in for a castration procedure and vaccinations. The smaller animals also cost less so there's that too.

That's all I could think of for this breed and the start of this chicken series!

[vergess]

How do you know so much about heritage chicken breeds?

I mean.... I don't! I know as much as I picked up being an autistic who grew up on a farm in rural fuckallsville. There are real historians of chickens who write books about it and stuff. I'm some guy with farm experience and Google.

It's just that, if you're doing your birds free ranged with trees and in a small (under 100 birds) flock, a lot of the time heritage breeds will handle that well compared to modern crosses because they were bred with that kind of thing in mind.

In truth, I think Golden Comets are the best bird: sweet, domestic, fast growing, heavy producing, sex linked, etc etc. But they're a little TOO domestic. They need a pretty heavy handed rooster to keep them safe from foxes and hawks, they won't defend themselves as readily from snakes, they'll accept diseased coop conditions... they're simply too sweet. If you've ever seen a fat yellow chicken that is Clearly a house pet? That's a goldie.

Of course! Not every heritage breed is a forager with good safety instincts! Plenty were bred to be brood mothers or for collectible feathers, etc etc. But if you want a guy well suited to fucking off into the woods all day and coming home at night, they're the place to start.

Also, when I read that post, I read 'period piece' as 'Victorian setting' without thinking about it.

A LOT of heritage breeds date to the 1800s because chicken breeding really became a popular hobby.

Prior to that you had more like... regional chickens that just kind of sprung up around the people farming them. There were breeds! Fayoumi, gamefowl, cemani, etc. But a lot of the 'fancy' ones are Victorian.