Coccidiosis Again

It’s been a cold wet spring, and this always makes us slow at putting chicks out on pasture, even though we know that keeping ’em in the brooder house too long will give them a nasty case of coccidiosis. We just encountered a mild case in the broiler chicks we put into their pasture house at four weeks of age.

Coccidiosis is a protozoan parasite that lives in your chickens’ intestines and will scar them up something fierce if you let it, killing some chicks and stunting others. It has a screwy lifecycle that can be broken if you prevent the chickens from re-ingesting their own feces, or by a variety of drugs. It can also be mitigated by the use of deep litter that’s more than six months old, because the ecology of the microbes in deep litter eventually includes things that eat coccidia. (See my deep litter guide.)

Anyway, four weeks in the brooder house on non-medicated feed is too long for broilers, and their manure showed the occasional pink splotch. That’s blood. Bad. They weren’t acting sick, though, which assuages my conscience. Still, damage is being done.

The pasture pens we use for broilers are moved to a new patch of grass every day, which effectively interrupts the coccidiosis life cycle. The problem will fade very quickly — I hope before any chicks stop acting perky and before any damage is done. But we cut it too fine. We shouldn’t allow symptoms to develop at all.

If you ask for advice about coccidiosis, a lot of people will give you home remedies for treating it after the symptoms get bad. Most of these don’t work, and you shouldn’t wait that long, anyway. Prevention is what you want. Others will tell you, in effect, that their chickens never get coccidiosis, in spite of their lack of precautions. Sometimes this is true — coccidiosis outbreaks tend to be sort of random — but usually it just means they don’t know it when they see it, and blame their sick and stunted chicks on the feed or the hatchery.

That’s why I recommend that beginners use medicated chick starter. The medication is aimed solely at coccidiosis, which is the #1 baby chick disease. Once you’ve raised a bunch of perkey, uninfected chicks, you’ll notice if your next batch does poorly on unmedicated feed.

I like using medicated feed, but Karen doesn’t. Part of the difference is that my chicks are egg-type pullets, which grow more slowly and have to spend more time in the brooder house, putting them at greater risk for coccidiosis. On the other hand, my pullets won’t start laying until they’re five months old, which is more than three months after I’ve discontinued the medication (which isn’t toxic in any event, especially at second hand). The timescale is a lot shorter with broilers.

The other trick is to have wire-mesh floors in the brooder house so the chicks can’t forage around in their own manure.

All this is covered in loving detail in my baby-chick book, Success With Baby Chicks, along with every other baby-chick technique I’ve ever heard of. Take a look!

Sequel to “One Survivor” Underway

Getting my action-packed SF novel (One Survivor) into print got me back into fiction-writing mode, and I’ve been putting in some time on the sequel, Tainted Gold. Not one to hold out on my loyal readers, I’ve posted what I have (the first 80 pages) here.

Tainted Gold has many of the same characters as One Survivor, but I structured it differently. There are several different groups of people going after the gold (“What gold?” you ask. Read One Survivor). Each group has special knowledge that the others really need but don’t have. No group is aware of all of the others. It’s been fun to write so far.

As with my other science fiction, it reads sort of like early Heinlein, or maybe Bujold. I don’t know why, it just happened.

Grass and Chickens

Time to put the mower on the tractor. I have a 1957 Ford 640 tractor and a five-foot rotary mower.

The surest sign that it’s time to mow is that the electric fence starts shorting out against it. You’ve really gone too far when the chickens have little jungle paths through the tall grass to get from their houses to the outdoor feeders.

Chickens do best on short grass. They can’t digest grass unless it’s bright green, and tall grass is a serious barrier to them. I read some research done way back when that said that two inches is a good grass height for chickens. Six inches is too tall. Also, when tall grass starts providing seclusion, they start laying there instead of in the nest boxes.

Predators, on the other hand, prefer tall grass. It allows them to lie in wait, which works better for them than chasing chickens all over the yard.

It’s important to either be (a) the kind of person who always puts everything back where it belongs, not matter what, or (b) to start mowing the pasture before the grass gets high enough to obscure the stuff you’ve left lying around. Otherwise you discover your missing possessions by shredding them with the mower.

There are different kinds of tractor mowers. Like everyone else, I use a “bush hog,” (which I put in quotes because it’s really a generic rotary mower, not by Bush Hog) — a rotary mower with swinging blades that make it resistant to damaging itself or your tractor’s drive shaft if it whacks a stump or a big rock. Don’t forget to fill up the oil in the transmission and sharpen the blades if you can get at them.

Also, you really need to have an “overrunning clutch” between the bush hog and your PTO drive shaft. Otherwise, the inertia of the spinning blades will act like a flywheel, making your tractor hard to stop. (The power take-off is on the wrong side of the clutch, so stomping on the clutch has no effect on this. The ratcheting mechanism on the overrunning clutch does the trick.)

What about lawns, you ask? Oh, yeah. I mow them with a lawn mower, or, more often, Dan does. I don’t do lawn care besides that. I prefer working on a field scale, so a lawn seems too dainty to me. We don’t plant or fertilize it, we just mow whatever chooses to grow there. Grass and frisbees, mostly. And Oregon’s Coast Range plays this geological joke on us — it rains half the year, but that doesn’t mean your well produces much water. So we don’t water the lawn in the summer, either.

But take it easy on your first mowing session of the season. Tall wet grass is exhausting to deal with, except on a tractor or riding mower. The word “dainty” I used earlier doesn’t apply to the first cutting in the spring. My grandfather found this out the hard way back in the Seventies, duking it out his lawn and losing. Gave him a heart attack. That’s why he’s not the world’s oldest man today.

Back from Sakuracon

I took Dan to Sakuracon over the weekend. Sakuracon is the big anime (Japanese animation) convention in Seattle.

Anime fandom sure has changed since I first encountered it in the mid-Eighties. The Eighties boom was fueled by the introduction of the home VCR, which made possible the widespread piracy of laserdiscs and videotapes from Japan. Fans bombarded everyone they knew with low-quality tapes of their favorite shows. These were in Japanese, without subtitles, but many of the shows were so visual that understanding the dialog was unnecessary.

The surge of interest this generated allowed real, licensed versions to appear with English subtitles or dubbing. The industry has grown and grown, and anime is a major cultural force among our young people. A lot of its appeal is that most of it is aimed at older kids than American cartoons are, so there’s far more plot, romance, violence, mystery, horror, cuteness, crazy comedy, and sex appeal — often all in the same show. The basic approach is to take every knob and turn it up to “eleven.”

Karen and I are particularly fond of the works of Hayao Miyazaki, the “Japanese Walt Disney.”

At the conventions, practically everyone is in costume. This trend is more pronounced every year. I was definitely an oddball because I didn’t even make a token effort. Dan at least had a cape and an attitude:

The costumes can be almost anything, including non-anime characters. I saw an Edward Scissorhands, a guy dressed up as a whoopee cushion, and an Abe Lincoln in addition to the usual anime characters, including legions of girls dressed as “Japanese schoolgirls with magical powers” characters, of which anime has an infinite number.

So that was fun, and I’ll be doing it again next year. Need a costume, though. The peer pressure is getting to me.

Let’s raise all our food in a bunker.

Alert reader David Fiske sent me this link to a New York Times op-ed that expresses surprise and alarm that livestock raised outdoors are exposed to more pathogens than ones raised in confinement. Outdoor pigs can get trichinosis and other porcine infestations, some of which are dangerous to humans.

None of this should be news to anybody. If you raise livestock in a bunker, you can control what they’re exposed to (though in practice this is hit-or-miss). Outdoors, nature gets a vote.

I don’t know about you, but people who want to seal themselves away from nature get on my nerves. That goes double when they want free-range stuff to be sealed away from nature, too.

Maybe this is just a bad attitude on my part. No doubt I should be building a farm in a giant tunnel somewhere, where everything is under absolute control. Then, just for luck, I’d irradiate the bejesus out of all my products after packaging to ensure that it’s more sterile than moon rocks. Too bad Howard Hughes isn’t alive anymore. He’d love it.

In the meantime, my advice is: nature’s full of all kinds of stuff, good and bad. Get used to it. Revisit “The Joy of Cooking” once in a while to refresh your memory about rules like, “Cook your pork thoroughly, even if it came from a gigantic, concrete-floored confinement facility.”

For home-raised pork, trichinosis is sort of a joke threat, since hard freezing kills it eventually, and that’s how we receive our pork from the butcher. Country people know better than to eat rare pork, anyway.