Macy and Stu, Wordy Wednesday 17th July 2013

Well it had to happen, despite all my crossed fingers and hopes of some mix-bred mishap, Stu came out and announced himself on Monday morning.  I'd like to say it was a grand moment, having kept us all on tenterhooks for so long, but the sorry truth is that he sounded rather like a strangled cat and didn't even manage a "doo" to end his "cock-a-doodle" (possibly a blessing in hindsight!)  His saving grace, it was quiet; the girls make far more noise than that.  That said, I'm of no doubt he'll get into his stride eventually; at which point, if I've not come up with a way of minimising the impact, I'm pretty certain I will have some unhappy neighbours.  He's a lovely bird; very bonded with Macy, an absolute wimp when it comes to the other ladies, even Tiny, and now very much part of the family.  If I have no option but to, I will find him a rescue, but I would like to see if we can't make him village friendly first.

Monday night I tried Option A, rounded everyone up and put them in the coop with every crevice and crack covered.  Roosters, I've read, will learn to stay quiet if its dark enough and I'm hoping a "Good Morning" around 7 or 8 am will be acceptable, depending on how loud he is of course.  It was a marvellously peaceful Tuesday morning, even if they all came shooting out like scalded cats at 7 am, complaining and grumbling and not quietening down until I put out a second scatter of corn.  Stu and Macy were a little in shock, as the lowest members of the flock they still keep their distance and I'm guessing a night in the coop with the other girls wasn't a completely calm affair, and he didn't even attempt a doodle.  As I was giving them a little "buck up, you'll be fine" talking to, I couldn't resist a couple of pictures.  Macy is such a sweet thing and Stu just looked rather magnificent!

It's been a big weekend in Chookville

I decided to try mixing the little ones with the rest of the flock.  The original plan was to leave then to it for a couple of hours, as long as they all behaved themselves, but it's gone so smoothly I have no plans to separate them again.

I made two adjustments to the run.  The first was to keep some of the bamboo "wall" in place when I opened it up.  It's big enough that the little ones can move through at speed but it slows the big girls down.  The big girls have not really charged the little ones at all, but they, Stu in particular, were a little flighty the first few hours and at least I knew they wouldn't hurt themselves if they ran for the safety of their end of the run.  I also opened up the roof of the nest box on the little ones coop.  It was mainly so that when they went up there to hide, they would get some fresh air.  It turned out to have an unexpected benefit and the little ones now do laps of the run; perching on and then flying down from the nesting box, running back up the ramp and flying down again.  It also means that can perch at the same height but away from the big girls, which is a bonding process.

Tilda checking out the break in the "wall"

Need to work on some better chook proofing!

All in all, its been a real treat to watch them all just get used to each other.  There has been a tiny bit of huffing, but no attacks or damage done.  I was steeling myself up, especially after the hassle we had getting the four girls to coexist happily together, but the big girls have been extremely tolerant this time around.  Tiny is the only one that has thrown her weight about a bit, not a surprise as she is still the smallest hen in the flock and needs to stake her claim with the two newbies.  Given that the littleies are more than double her size, she is all mouth and little effect and it's best she gets it out of her system whilst they are still young enough not to realise that she's all bluster!  Grumpy Goldie, meanwhile, back in broody mode again, has yet to notice that anythings changed ;o)

It's really good to see them all hanging out together.  And my crazy, higgledy piggledy run working so well for them all.  It's grown as the girls needs have changed and I love the flexibility and adaptability of it.  I was a little worried that we might need to do something else to it; new additions to the flock have to date always created a new building project!  but as it turns out the only thing we need to do is finally sort out the netting, which was only ever a test run for what we planned to really do.  It's been so successful though that it's staying, we just need to redo it properly.  I also want to work out a way of being able to keep the nesting box roof open permanently in the day time; everyone seems to enjoy perching on it an then flying down into the run... I caught the big girls having a go this evening, it was like watching an elephant balance on a tightrope!

and two broody hens...

 

and one little chook that doesn't know what (s)he is but, thankfully, is continuing to keep quiet about it! 

 

They're a couple of characters these two and growing into really beautiful birds.  Calming down and coming for treats enough that we're starting to let them venture into the garden, though they still go into a mad squawk when one of the big girls comes too close. 

It's just that I'm still waiting for that one wake up call that changes everything... the nervous anticipation rather reminds me of being pregnant.  A very odd kind of pregnant! 

Trouble in chookville?

We're not yet sure, but it seems that my lovely Sili could be a boy... and I'm not yet entirely sure what to do if that is the case!  As with most things animal related, everyone has their opinion and advice, none of which is proving conclusive, so until Sili either lays an egg or crows we will have to wait with baited breath. 

What I do know is that (s)he's now settling in beautifully with Macy.  Pre POL pullets definitely have brought a whole new dimension to my hen keeping.  It is lovely to watch them learning and growing up, I had not realised just how different they would be to the older girls (who were all at POL which is 10 weeks older than these two).  Calming them is very much a work in progress, they're still completely flightly at times and you can't help but worry that they might hurt themselves.  Treat times though are particulalry funny as they now recognise a good thing when it's coming but don't know whether to run or stay; if you've never seen a chicken dither, its an endearing sight!  They have also now got the hang of their training perch; there's still the odd wobble, but they will settle quite happily.  I knew that chooks will instinctively perch, I didn't realise that it would take them such a while to get the hang of it! 

So, the now SiliStu, in honour of StuStella who looks like the kind of roo Sili could aspire to be, has some clarifying to do and quickly please: the slightest sound from the girls in the morning, which is not long after 6am, and I'm wide awake waiting for that first possible crow!  I honestly don't know what it would mean long term, a roo was never part of the plan but, when I called the breeder for advice and was told nothing more useful than that they'd kill him for me, it cemented my initial thoughts... SiliStu is part of the gang and has a right to life, (s)he's certainly not inconvenient or disposable! 

That said, I'd be lying if I tried to deny that my fingers are firmly crossed ;o)

Busy old week...

Highlights included:

Finishing off the grass by the kitchen door, at last, only 3 years late... Megan approved.

"Homework" in the garden:

Chicken Ignoring for Dogs...

while the big girls did a little light weeding.

I even managed a bit of sewing, more later.

Our new feathered girls...

The other excitement of Sunday, was the arrival of our new girls... a post-swim treat for both of us!  Yes, going from one back to four chooks was a bit of a palaver (and yes, I know I'm downplaying it rather a lot too...) but ever since they settled I have been thinking that six would be a good number.  It's not completely without reason, my oldest girl, Etta, is absolutely and magnificently in her prime, but she's coming up for 5 and, should anything happen, we would be left with Tilda the Bossy and the two little girls.  Spreading out the flock a little more would give us all a little leeway if anything untoward should happen.

Keeping with the mix and match nature of our little flock and at the mercy of the 11 yr old, who had complete voting rights as a treat for her swimming prowess, we went for two new breeds: a Sicilian Buttercup and a Crested Cream Legbar.  The Sicilian, "Silli", is an extremely rare breed who will grow into a smaller sized large fowl and has a temperament to match Tiny the Game Hen.  The Legbar, "Macy Gray" (you'll see why!) is a beautiful, blue-egg laying, little girl.  Both girls are 11 weeks old, much younger than we've had before, but that too was deliberate as Goldie is broody at the moment and could use someone to mother!

Initial introductions went well, though the littlies are separated from the bigger girls for now as they eat different food and need to settle, bond and grow a little before I integrate them completely.  There was some of the usual argy-bargy but mostly just a lot of squawking. Megs was beside herself, desperate to say a proper hello to the newbies and restore order with everyone else.  The rest of the afternoon was spent drinking tea, calming Megs and chook watching in the sunshine... wishing we had ear plugs :o)  

So here's everybody...

Etta, our Grande Dame

Tilda, the Bossy

Gorgeous, Grumpy Goldie

Timy Tempah aka Terror now that someone smaller than her has appeared!

Silli Buttercup, not the most flattering photo but too cute not to post!

And last, but not least, the beautiful Macy Gray... she sings too!

I know we're biased, but aren't they a gorgeous bunch?!  I do love my chooks.  I am so looking forward to the experience of caring for these new little girls and seeing them grow and bond with the older girls.

The Meal Worm Baguette

(it sounds like something Roald Dahl would come up with)

Chooks like meal worms, luckily for me (as I am really not a fan) they are at least dried.  I'm still not a fan.  That said, in an attempt to find a use for half a baguette that was hard enough to cause serious bodily harm, I decided to see if I couldn't make a meal worm toy for the chooks.  

Using a screw driver I carved out some holes, stuffed them with as many worms as they would take and threaded a wire through the top.  Hung in the coop it was ignored as only chooks can ignore something, until I was safely out of sight and no longer trying to see if my efforts were appreciated... a couple of hours later it was wormless.  It even lasted a couple more refills before being completely demolished.  All in all, a good effort.

 

In the meantime, we have a mole.  He has completely destroyed my herb patch and was aiming for my hellebore; something had to be done!  A friend once told me that the vibrations caused by plastic garden windmills put moles off, the little one that they gave me to prove the theory certain seemed to work but didn't survive the winter.  I found these fabulous bursts of spinning colour and couldn't resist, the chooks also rather like to watch them. 

A chicken in the doghouse!

Shakira is proving feisty.  So feisty in fact that I quickly got tired on Sunday of calling "Shakira!" across the garden.  Thanks to my lovely sister-out-law, L, and as a nod to the gold-winning Jessica, she is now Ennis.  Etta and Ennis, it has a nice ring.

Tiny (a Wheaten Old Game Hen, I finally found out) lays tiny white eggs and is happier to pose!

Not that it's changed her temperament.  Etta is a benevolent (and slightly lazy) top chook, you'll get a peck but she can't be bothered with much more than that or any sort of chasing about.  Ennis, on the other hand, is a bit of a bully and she really goes for sustained attacks on the little two, particularly little Tiny.  Etta doesn't get involved in restoring the peace (I miss Red, she'd have had none of this nonsense) and by last night I decided it was time that the little ones had a break; Ennis was sent to the doghouse!  Hopefully, by separating her out, the banties will get used to Etta and her odd peck, stop hiding in the coop for the majority of the day and then spend the short time they're out tearing up and down the run to get out of the way, jumping at the sight of a bigger chook (they completely panic) and trying to escape behind the hanging feeders (they're going to get hurt).  Etta is not happy, she and Ennis have bonded nicely, but she'll manage for a day or two and tomorrow the lovely Mr S is coming over to start the new run, one with plenty of nice high spots for the banties and maybe a hiding place or two.

Megs saying hello with her best low head like me approach.

No doubt they'll eventually sort themselves out, if not, Ennis is going to be replaced... or I could turn the dog run into a second coop and have more chooks!  I'd better make myself scarce when the boyf reads this; love you honey!  In the meantime I think I need to make my current  more bantie-friendly first, give them a chance to use their brains over the brawn of the larger two!

Chookadelightful!

I lay in bed yesterday morning at 5am (the dog-alarm was a little early!) planning what I'd need to do if I wanted to get some new chooks... by 5.15 I was in the garden dismantling the coop ready for some repairs and repainting.  The coop itself got a good clean, the roof panels came off to be repainted and the hinges replaced.  

Roof off...

Amazing the difference a new coat of paint makes!

The "temporary" run got a good clean too; the lovely Mr S is threatening to replace it with a "proper" one this summer ;o)  and this afternoon the boyf and I built a new corridor as the old one was creating a muddy mess.  I say "we", I mean "he" as I was an utter DIY disaster-area today.  I've super-sized my thumb, getting it caught in the tin snips; embellished my foreman with a rather fetching collection of cuts and scratches; impaled my heel on some steel wire and, to top it all off, seemed to attract every mosquito in a 4 mile radius.... it's not a pretty picture!  Etta looked on from the dog run, perching on the side of the old Victorian tub, and, as the afternoon was punctuated with cries of "gloves!", "mind that!", "watch out!" and "oh darling, what have you done now?" as the boyf increasingly despaired, I think she was secretly laughing at me!

The lovely Mrs B joined us for a trip up the local hatchery.  It's an odd place, eccentrically disorganised, and not all that keen to sell you a chicken if they don't think you're up to the task!  We almost gave up until we got caught up in an impromptu introduction to quail keeping (hmm, quails...), were given a couple of dozen eggs to try and finally found ourselves picking three new chooks.  I deliberately picked them from three separate flocks so that they all felt new, with no pre-existing alliances, and we came home with a Columbian Blacktail called Shakira (she's Columbian after all), a Gold-laced Wyandotte bantam called Goldie (not particularly inspired but there's a theme here) and an Old English Game bantam called Tiny (Tempah) after the hissy fit she threw when we finally got hold of her; the irony being that we chose her because she looked to calm!  The Rock (or is that Rap) Chicks are in town  :o) and Etta (now Etsy Betsy according to the 11yr old, I think not!) wasted no time in telling them who was boss, though in overall I think they're settling quite nicely.  The only one I need to keep an eye on is Goldie, she's being told off by everyone and is far too nice to fight back.

Shakira Shakira (are you humming the song now?)

Goldie (Lookin Hen) though when I think Goldie, I'm a little more old skool!

Tiny Tempah... not yet happy to pose for photos, at least here she's not a blur.

It is lovely to see the run alive and bustling again, even if it's in the midst of the huffing and puffing that comes with sorting out the rankings.  Having such different temperaments is going to be fun too; the bantams are much happier perching that the larger girls, Shakira will be an escape artist and Tiny is a bulldog in a very small body!  I caught her jumping almost half her height to tell Etta off for have a peck at her.

Now, about those quails... just look at those amazing eggs and the birds are so small, I'm sure there would be room for a couple in the run!

RIP Blue, a good chook!

It was slightly prophetic maybe to have chosen that picture of Blue yesterday; she died with less than a day to go till we could get her to the vet.  It was especially sad and frustrating as she was up and about that day and I thought we were winning the battle.  As late as an hour before she went she was pottering about and looking so much better that I didn't say my proper hellos when I came home, choosing to walk the dogs first instead and planning to spoil her a little afterwards.  I know she's only a chook, but I care deeply for my animals and I was enjoying the bond that was forming; who knew that she'd love to have her feathers blow dried or that she was a fan of tuna. 

Now, I have one last chook, Etta, and some decisions to make.  Ets can't stay on her own, she stood watch over Blue till I'd buried her and is chasing round the run in a panic today.  I don't know if I want more chooks though, I get far too attached to them.  The decision has to be what would be easier on her, joining an established flock or, hopefully, becoming a elder "aunt" to a couple of newbies... I guess I've just answered my own question!  First job though is to rehome Ets temporarily in the dog run and give everything a good clean, just to be on the safe side, before making any final decisions.

There's a chook in my sink! Wordless Wednesday 1st August 2012

A poorly chook

The beautiful Blue isn't well, so I gave her her dinner separately today and, as she hung out for a bit with me, yoghurty beak and all, I couldn't resist a photo or two...

That's one mucky beak, she looks like she's dip-dyed it!

Another goodbye...

Just back from our holiday I was looking forward to posting my favourite pictures of the week away.  Instead, I'm posting my favourite picture of my little Red Hen, who is now resting peacefully under the bay tree with her friend Randy and the guinea boys.  She was a fine chook, I loved her dearly.

Jumpers for the Chooks

The poor chooks have gone into moult late again and the coldest weather has come just as they are at their baldest.  They are miserable and cold, missing Randy and off lay.  They normally don't mind the winter, so they need a little help to keep them warm... jumpers!

The lovely people at Little Hen Rescue, who do such great work with ex-battery hens, have a pattern which I borrowed, and the boyf and the 10yr old found me a pair of very festive fleece blankets. 

I drew the pattern out and cut six pieces out, three spotty and three red (double-sided jumpers).  The pattern recommends velcro fastenings but I have none to hand, so I used the same gold ribbon that I used on the Victorian Costume. 

I sandwiched it between the two layers and pinned it in place.  I then zigzag stitched around the edge of the jumper.  I didn't stitch around the neck seam as I wanted to keep it's flexibility.

Three Hen Jumpers.  Very festive too!

Two rather bald hens, who I bribed out of the run with a pile of soggy leaves!

Sometime later.... three stroppy chickens looking rather like the Beast from Maggie and the Ferocious Beast!  The jumpers went on pretty fuss-free (mostly) but I took the opportunity to vaseline their legs: the girls do not like it when I vaseline their legs, not at all.  By the time they'd gone to sulk in the coop they were really rather annoyed with me and clucking away telling me off!

Girls jumpers done, I cut out the rest of the fleece for jumpers for the lovely Gail at Farplace Animal Rescue, who has some new girls who could use a little extra warmth.  Just need some velcro and then they can go in the post.

Sunday morning and a sick chook

In the midst of settling our new chook in, we have discovered that our top hen, Fly, has an impacted crop.  Pre-surgery (lets hope we don't get there) treatment is to pump her crop full of warm water and liquid petroleum as much as she can stand it (it requires swaddling her in a blanket and easing an 8" tube down her throat!) and then massage it all to, hopefully, break down the impaction.

It is a little like having a sick child.  Certainly felt familiar, stood in my kitchen at 8.30am on a Sunday, in my pyjamas, with washing up to by done, rocking side to side to calm her down and warming another jar of baby food!  But, having looked thoroughly miserable last week, her comb is coming back into colour and I think she trusts that all the interference is our trying to help.

I, in the meantime, have fallen utterly in love with my stoic little red hen.