Chic Insomnia

So, I put the heat lamp into the coop and an hour later it was off, dead, no explanation.  The weather report was gleefully predicting overnight weather to compete with ice9, so alternatives had to be put in place.   I thought of going up to the storage space and hauling out the giant dog crate.  I thought if I put it in the cellar and could persuade them to stay there for the night, they'd be more comfortable but they are very suspicious of the cellar.  It must look to them like a place chickens go and don't come back.
What I did have was a gro light, so I replaced the burnt out heat bulb with that, and the girls immediately perked up and started an excited conversation among themselves, interrupting each other, losing their train of thought, changing the subject, shouting one another down.
Well. [I thought] at least they won't freeze to death....
The next morning they were awake and staring off into the distance like Hari Krishna devotees.
There were extra eggs in the bin, though.
Off to the hardware store to buy another heat lamp and an exterior grade fixture.  Worry about chickens being burned to death while captive were put at bay by the salesman who used to share his yard with chickens himself, and was too nice and gentle a  person for me to admit to having inadvertently murdered babychicks a couple of summers ago using a heat lamp.  I left with my reputation in tact and set up the light in the coop.
This worked, I woke up a few times in the night to look out my window to make sure there hadn't been a conflagration during the night, and this morning all was ticket-boo.
I went down to check on their water, and they had fouled it more than usual pushing each other around for the privilege of roosting on top of the heated container.  The were happy to see me though, and one jumped up on my arm, sat down and did not wish to leave.  I will assume, knowing how Avian Americans regard us featherless types as a nod to my body warmth and nothing more.

Freezer Burn

I suppose it is the sun that makes the girls feel as though it is worth putting a beak outside the coop, that and how tired they are of each other all ready and it's only January 7th.  "Two more months of inside living" I tell them, and they fix me with an unmoving avian gaze.  "brwaaaa...."  they mutter amongst themselves as though they think I don't know what they mean.
I bought a new heater for the coop this year; the one from years past made an interesting noise accompanied by a flash followed by some flickering before the cord melted at the point where it plugged into the exterior grade extension cord.
The new heater does not work.
The temperatures are predicted to be -30 or so tonight, I don't remember if that includes windchill, but who cares?  It's too damned cold, and I woke up every hour last night wondering if I was going to find chickens gone tits up in the morning.
They were happy to see me, surged around asking for treats, glad of the leftover rice, tactfully hiding the bits of cabbage under other bits of cabbage and making cheerful sounds.
How they can do this is beyond my understanding.  I just want to swath myself in electric blankets and sit somewhere with a nice book where nobody will ask me any questions for about a year.  Well... at least until it warms up a bit.
Remembering the painful and horrifying experience of killing baby chickens with a heat lamp, I was worried about putting one up again, but it's that or frozen chickens, so I'm hoping it is far enough away from them to not be a hazard, but enough to take the worst chill off for these Reds who are supposed to be winter hardy.  That might mean winter, but I don't think it means the kind of winters we are having lately, or this particular week.  The Avian Americans don't complain much or for long, but that doesn't mean they don't suffer.  My hope for this week is that they can get through it without tragedy as well as discomfort.