So, That Was 2010

Happy New Year! Nearly. As we approach the end of 2010, I find myself looking back at an eventful year in chicken keeping. This year, I lost my beloved Mini which was rubbish, but hatched my first ever chicks, which was amazing. I said goodbye to the Convent, and hello to the amazing Palace. I waved the Silkie sisters off to their fab new home, and welcomed four new girls. One of which was my much coveted frizzle. I performed emergency first aid on ASBO Chicken and kept all of my fingers (I am particularly proud of that). Yep, it's been interesting.

So, what does 2011 have in store? It's probably best that I don't know to be honest. I find that things run more smoothly if disasters are sprung upon me rather than giving me time to panic. Doris is currently sporting another bubbly eye minus any other symptoms. Rather than running off to the vet, I've decided to ignore the attention seeking faker and see if it miraculously improves. Just so that you don't think I am completely heartless, you should know that Doris has form. She also has a massive amount of tonic in her drinking water right now.

I hope this year has been kind to you, and that 2011 is downright generous.

Maeve aka ASBO Chicken and her incredible swivelling neck.

Gladys at her frizzly best.

Purdy, the only layer at time of writing (so she's my favourite).

Doris, Maeve and Mabel.

A super curious Hilda.

My beautiful Maude.

Purdy and Mabel.

Hilda demolishing my alpine trough. Sigh.

Celia was knocking about, but managed to evade the camera. Her broodiness seems to be over. At long bloody last.

Normality Returns

With a heavy burst of rain over the weekend, we said goodbye to the snow. The temperature has risen considerably, too. The chooks are most pleased.

When I first opened the run up, they remained suspicious. With a bit of gently coaxing, they stepped over the threshhold and realised that the horrid white stuff really had had the decency to leave. There then followed a rather undignified bundle for the warm area on the decking. Naturally, Mabel duffed everyone up and won the choicest spot.

So, back to our normal routine, then. The girls are once again marauding around the garden, kicking stones on to the lawn and digging up spring flowering bulbs. In fact, if they could swig out of cider bottles and swear elaborately, you would see the resemblance to bored teenagers. There is the occassional squawk of protest as one of the lower pecking order hens gets a mean spirited peck from one of the upper echelons. They seem rather disgruntled.

At the moment of typing, not one of the free-loading feather-bags is laying, and I'm wondering whether the anticipation of pecking order shake-ups is leading to this mild animosity. Kiki has decided that being broody in january is a bit daft, frankly, so is back in the running. Maeve is still in the middle of a moult, and resembles a rather worse for wear vulture. She is defending her flock position, and the Silkies and Mini are bearing the brunt of her displeasure.

It's unlikely, but I'm secretly hoping that Mini will become a laying power house, and ascend to the perch.

Mystery Layer

Quick update on Mini. After trying baytril, and more tylan, Mini is now having eye drops administered three times a day. The eye is a mess, and the horrid, thick eye cheese continues to be a problem. After liberating some from her upper eyelid yesterday, I very nearly threw up. Mini bears this treatment with understandable panic, but no malice. The eye is open, but looks awful. On the plus side, Mini is well in herself, happily rootling around the garden for tasty tidbits and leading the charge when it comes to treats. She is eating and drinking normally, so I am slightly more confident that she will survive whatever this infection is.

On a more happy note, one more of my girls is now laying (I say one more, because Maeve has yet to stop. That hen is a powerhouse of production!) Last week, I found a quite spherical egg in the run. Tinted like Maeve's, but a different shape. It still might have been Maeve's, I suppose, but I can't think why she wouldn't have laid in the nest box. It also closely resembled the kind of egg that a certain eye-infected chook used to lay. Then, two days ago I found a perfectly formed, slightly smaller, yet shiny, egg in 'Maeve's' nest box. This one was definitely not down to my ASBO chicken. Today, I have found another egg matching the description of the first.

Now, I'm fairly certain that this small, shiny egg layer is not one of my 'regulars'. My money is on the demented bog brush sisters, aka the silkies. So, I have diligently followed them around the garden, hand outstretched, in an effort to see if they crouch. They don't. They simply take off around the garden like road runner. Hmmmm.

The mystery deepens.....

Life with chickens

So, I jumped in at the deep end, and learnt on the job. Maude and Mabel settled in quickly, happily pottering around the garden and scoffing all my favourite tender plants. And decimating the greenhouse. The kids were fascinated for about five minutes, and then their attention was caught by something else. The ever tolerant husband grudgingly admitted that they were sweet, and weren't turning the garden into a farmyard. I had well and truly caught the bug, and talked the other half into aquiring another hen.

During my chicken research, I had come across silkies. Silkies are an unusual looking chicken, with fluffy feathers and black skin. They are also supposed to be gentle and good around children. I tracked down a farmer who said I could have one of his young hens for a fiver. Bargain!

Except she wasn't. She was evil. My eldest son named this chicken psychopath Alice, a lovely sweet name wholey inappropriate to the honking, screeching mentalist that was penned up in the back garden. Alice hated people, showing her displeasure with open beaked hisses and vicious pecking if you came within range. Alice also hated chickens, repeatedly trying to duff up the other two until they perched awkwardly on top of the drinker, refusing to come down while the crazed Alice circled underneath with that Jack Nicholson from 'The Shining' gleam in her eye. After a mere 48 hours, we decided Alice had to go. Using tea towels and a bucket, we managed to secure her in a box and the hubby took her back to the farm. I suspect she is continuing her reign of tyranny on some other poor hens as I type.

A few weeks after the Alice episode, I somehow managed to talk hubby into getting two more pekins. I did this sneakily, by telling the kids that they could have a hen of their own. I tracked down a wonderful breeder, and 6 weeks after Mabel and Maude arrived, we had a 6 week old red hen called Belinda, and a 6 week old blue hen named Doris.

Introducing chickens to an existing flock is a tricky business. There is always a fair amount of chasing, pecking and bokking. I took it very slowly, initially just letting them all see each other while in seperate pens. After a few weeks, they free ranged/ chased each other around the garden. Five weeks after Belinda and Doris's arrival, they were all in the same coop and the pecking order was established. To my knowledge, no hens were injured during this process, and it worked well for us.

So, now I had my little flock. They waddled happily around the garden, scoffing everything in site and leaving surprisingly large deposits all over the decking. They also started to make proper chicken noises, other than the chick 'meep' sounds they'd arrived with. Surprisingly loud chicken noises. Oh dear. They favour a bok-bok-bok-BOKKKKKK!! kind of call rather than gentle clucking. Basically, everyone now knew that we had hens.