My Head Has Been Turned

Don't tell the flock, but I have had my head turned. I have been introduced to another breed. A teeny, cute rare breed. I have eyed them for some time from a distance, but now the fates have conspired and I have the opportunity to acquire two pullets of my very own. I may soon be the owner of a Malaysian Serama. Or rather, two.

The serama is the world's smallest chicken. Exhibition birds tend to be around the size of a coke can (plus a tail). They are all about the bosoms and being extremely upright. Wings should, ideally, be vertical. In short (ha ha) they are, in my opinion, an odd looking show bird. However, a not quite ideal specimen is a very pretty bird. They look proud and dignified. Males have a frankly pathetic crow on the whole, although of course there is variation across the breed. I am extremely tempted.

So at the end of the month I have a decision to make. I can collect two very pretty pullets, or I can be sensible about things and decline. Of course, I don't want to decline. Yet it is the responsibility of all chicken keepers to put their birds' welfare first. It may be possible to integrate two tiny hens in with my robust pekin girls, but it cannot be assumed. There is a good chance that the others will take one look at the tiny newcomers and decide to eat them. Or squash them. Or in some other way terrorise them. Especially ASBO Chicken. If this happens, the serama would require their own lodgings. Luckily, they are so tiny that they can be kept quite happily in a rabbit hutch as long as they have access to an outside pen. A rabbit hutch would fit quite easily in the garage....

Anyway, back to the existing pekin kingdom. Doris appears fully recovered, which is a huge relief. I am still not quite sure what is going on with that hen and her eyes, but it has been suggested to me that she has an allergy. I rather hope that that is the case. Celia continues to shed featehrs like a speed stripper. She is thoroughly miserable at the moment, and spends a lot of time snuggled next to a more well covered flock mate. I have to say that the other hens are being remarkably kind and allowing this heat sharing. Even Maeve.

Last weekend, all of the girls got a pedicure. The mud and wet means that they are inclined to pick up mud balls on their feet which need soaking off. When you first approach a bucket with a chicken, they become understandably agitated. But once they are soaking their feet and getting a toe massage, more often than not they relax totally. Which can be awkward because you're balancing them in one hand. Maude even went to sleep, and she's no light weight. After a quick once over, I discovered that it was only Celia that needed her nails clipping. As she clacked away across the patio, the others watched presumably expecting a tap dance. They were disappointed.

Any thoughts about the serama would be appreciated.

A Possible Murder Mystery

After two and a half years of chicken keeping, you tend to think you've probably seen it all. Just as you start to feel smug, your birds are certain to throw you a curve ball. And this one is a doozy.

In between rain showers, I headed out to clean out the coop. The hens were all happily forgaing in the border. I opened up the Palace and removed the perch. And then I paused. Because the perch was dotted with blood. In fact, a good half of the perch had splashes and dots of blood on it. Setting it aside, I studied the floor and walls of the coop. More blood dotted the newspaper under the perches, and large splatters of blood sprayed up the walls. Dear God it was even on the roof. Taking a deep breath, I did a rapid head count of the girls. All, thankfully, present and correct. And watching me now with interest.

Verifying that the nest box was blood free (Purdy had produced one of her perfect eggs), I began my investigations. Maude was injury and blood stain free. As were Doris, Gladys, Hilda, Purdy, and Celia. Mabel glared at me from the back step, apparently injury free. Which left Maeve.

Maeve had one tiny dot of blood on her comb. I inspected it carefully, and realised that there was no injury. She looked at me impassively. The evidence seemed to suggest that ASBO Chicken knew something about the blood in the coop. But she wasn't talking. Maeve is jet black, so frankly she could have been covered in dried blood and it would be hard to spot. Still, I looked. I found nothing else.

So now I'm left with a mystery. Eight hens, all injury free. No one is gasping or bubbling blood out of their nostrils. Yet the coop looks like something met a very sticky end in there. It's made me a little nervous of turning my back on them all, tbh. Especially Maeve.

I'm fairly sure I know whodunnit, I'm just not yet sure who the victim was.

(In other news, the inspection highlighted a few mud balls beginning to form on feathered feet, so tomorrow they'll all be having a foot bath. It also brought Celia's freaky feet to my full attention. Celia has twisted and fused toes, so her nails grow sideways and twisty. They are now beginning to get a bit long (not helped by her long broody spell) so she requires a pedicure. That should be fun.)

The Thaw

The snow has finally departed. We are now left with a boggy quagmire where the back garden should be. Even the very air is saturated, and the thick fog adds a deeply unfestive gloom. The hens all look like they're sporting wet look gel in their feathers and squelch forlornly across the lawn in search of bugs. It's nice to see them emerge from the Palace, even if conditions are less than favourable. Although there is something rather majestic about a short, shuffling chicken emerging from the fog.

Wet, muddy conditions are a pain in the neck when it comes to pekins. Their beautiful foot feathers get clogged up with balls of mud which have to be gently soaked away so as to not cause serious foot problems. Luckily for me, my girls are pretty sensible and dislike getting their feet dirty. After a brief foray, they can be seen perched in the run fastidiously cleaning their feathers. I still check their feet regularly during the winter. It is a problem which can easily be rectified if spotted early, and a real welfare concern. Many pekin breeders who show never let their birds free range for this reason (plus broken foot feathers from digging up your plants looks scruffy). Personally, I'd rather give the odd pedicure and have them careering about the place.

During the summer months, the chooks use various inconsiderate places to dust bath. Barely a pot or container is left undisturbed in their efforts to beautify themselves. During the cold/snow/frozen ground/muddy months, things get a bit trickier. I have run out of clean, dry dustbathing materials and the girls are not happy. In fact, so great is Purdy's displeasure that she decided to bathe herself in the soggy border. She is now stalking about the garden looking like someone has used her to clean around a U-bend. Spikey, scrawny and covered in mud, I can't help thinking that this was not the effect she was aiming for. Every so often she strectches up and flaps her wings, sending arcs of sloppy mud flying across the rest of the flock. They mutter offendedly and shuffle further away from the skanky hen.

I will be buying some play sand in the morning.