Farewell, My Pretties

Tonight, I said goodbye to Celia, Gladys, Flo and Winnie. They have gone to an excellent home, with a loving and knowledgable keeper, and I know they will be well cared for. But, oh, the deep sadness at saying goodbye.

The Palace seems very empty now, and the remaining birds seem unettled at all the extra space. As I lifted each departing bird from the perch, I found myself remembering collecting them, and felt my heart give a little lurch. Even as I placed them in the carriers, I couldn't quite believe I was going through with it. I saw each bird in all her glory, and it made me want to weep. Celia's beautiful markings, Gladys' soft frizzled feathers, Flo's gorgeous colouring and Winnie's perfect shape. Gawd, I'm typing this and welling up.

This moving lark isn't easy. I always imagined that when I moved I'd be expanding rather than downsizing. Our new house is perfect for the human contingent, the puppy won't much care as long as he gets walked and sausages, and my new smaller flock will have a luxurious free ranging area. But it is by no stretch of the imagination the kind of house and garden that you can set up as a mini smallholding. Ten birds would have impacted on a brand new estate in an undesirable way, and I know it. But it's so very hard to say goodbye.

I love each and every one of my ladies, and remember those that have passed with deep fondness. Mini will always have a special place in my heart. Yet I feel enormous guilt that I had to choose some hens to rehome, and in reality the four I chose were the easiest to part with. But it still feels lousy.

It'll be a while before I post again.

Tough Times, And I'm Posting After Wine

This is hard to post, but post I must. After lots of tooing and froing both here and in real life, and much angst, I will be parting with four of my girls. Celia, Gladys, Winnie and Flo will be heading to pastures new as soon as a good home can be found. I've posted an ad on Preloved with a heavy heart, and once they are gone I will be selling the Palace and buying a smaller, less grand home for the remaining hens. I should also be listing the serama for sale, but at the last minute I just couldn't do it. Serama are so little, surely no one will even notice them?

I'm not sure what will happen next.

We're On The Move

The deed is done. We have reserved a new home. I am freaking. Out.

Partly it's the usual house moving stuff. How will we move all of this stuff here, to there? How will I pack everything in just six weeks? How will I feel when I leave our home for the last 11 years and move in to the soulless box of the new build? How much gin will I need to get me through it? All normal, understandable concerns.

But I also have my hens. And that's where I fall to bits a little. Because I'm moving on to a brand new estate, where everyone scratches their heads when I ask if I can keep chickens there. They um and ah, and make vague references to domestic animals being ok, but there being nothing specific about livestock. In fact, every time I pose the Chicken Question, I am met with blank looks quickly followed by an expression best described as appeasing. In short, the builders think I'm mental.

No matter. I can handle being thought mad. It's nothing new. But I think to be safe I need to hedge my bets. I currently have ten chickens residing in the Palace. Ten chickens sounds like a lot. If someone who isn't a chicken lover hears that I have ten, they tend to respond thus: 'Ten! Bloody hell! Your graden must be like a swamp! Are you running a farm?' etc etc. Yet when I had six, it went more often like this: 'Aw! Chickens! How sweet! Lots of people are keeping little back garden flocks now, aren't they? I read it in The Guardian' etc etc. So I think I have to do the unthinkable. I think I have to rehome 40% of my flock.

It's not an easy decision. In fact, it's quite a painful one. But I know it is better for me to have some birds, than none. And my fear is that if we move in with ten birds, there will be complaints. People get a bit snarky if they spend hundreds of thousands of pounds on a brand new house and then discover that a zoo has moved in next door. In my mind, I see us moving in with the Palace on a trailer, hens bokking off, and the puppy hanging out of the car window barking his head off. We look like the Beverley Hillbillies. First impressions count.

When I announced all of this on Twitter yesterday, I had several enquiries to rehome some of my girls. My Twitter friends are wonderful, and the poultry peeps that I know on there will no doubt help me find my girls a great new home.

But oh, it will be hard to say goodbye.

Moving Day

Right now, at this moment, I have eleven chickens secreted about the place. By the end of the day, I should have only six or seven. Yes, today the silkies are going to their new home, and taking a boy chick with them. The lavender lad, aka the marvellously inappropriate 'Penelope', is moving out at the tender age of five weeks. Just before he leaves home, though, the black frizzle will be tripping off to his new home in the Derbyshire peaks, where he will no doubt rule the roost and have a brilliant time. That leaves me with just the little black chick.

The straight feathered black chap was the first to hatch, and up until just two weeks ago showed all the signs of being a girl. (Mind you, so did the lavender. It appears that feather sexing is not the most reliable way of sexing baby pekins). I had a suspicion that the black lad would be the hardest to rehome. He doesn't have the wow factor of the exploding frizzle, and he isn't the appealing colour of the lavender (who I suspect will be truly stunning as an adult). However, I shall persevere. Just this morning, I recieved an email in response to an ad asking if I still had any pekin cockerels. I have replied, bigging up the little dude, so here's hoping.

The timing of all this moving out is particularly fortuitous. Tomorrow, the amazing ever tolerant husband will drive me nearly ninety miles to the pekin breeder, where I will finally get my mitts on a pekin frizzle. She is eleven weeks old, and black, and definitely a girl! The youngest is allowed to pick her a straight feathered friend, so expect pics early next week. I am super excited, and the knowledge that I will soon have chicks I can keep is keeping me chipper for the inevitable sadness of saying goodbye to the peeps.

It's all go.

All Change

Things are changing in the Palace. After a year of silkie ownership, I have to finally confess to not being that keen. I have tried to find the silkie sisters endearing, or sweet, or charming, but it's not happening. They are either broody (which is fair enough), or running laps around the garden squawking their heads off and sounding like deranged turkeys (which isn't). The pekins have always stayed somewhat aloof from the manic feather dusters, and I have made my decision. Kiki and Margot are being rehomed.

I think the main problem is that I adore my pekins. I love the way they stand barely 6 inches tall, yet have the self importance of an ostrich. I admire their feisty, narky attitude. Watching them waddle about the garden at high speed after a tasty bug makes me smile. The haughty expression on their faces if I catch them in the greenhouse endears them to me each and every time (the vandals). The fact that Maeve (aka ASBO chicken) openly growls at me, who must look like a giant to her, if I dare to block out her light when she's sunbathing is, quite frankly, brilliant. In short, I have found my poultry best fit. And it is a small bird with a ginormous personality.

In comparison, the silkies seem rather dim. Actually, that's me being generous. They are skittish, highly strung and prone to screaming fits for no apparent reason. I can't detect any discernable personalities. To be fair, this is probably because they have spent a great deal of time pancaked in the nest box. However, they have never really calmed down to the human presence. They panic if the children go outside to play, unlike the majestic pekins who stroll away nonchalantly when a football comes barrelling towards them. Indeed, the pekins have even been known to tolerate rides on skateboards, or being carted around the garden by the youngest while he prattles away about bakugan. All has been tolerated with dignity. The silkies don't enjoy this attention at all.

So, I have advertised the silkies for sale. With any luck, they will be rehomed with someone who can make use of their broody abilities and who truly loves the breed. They will go together, and although the youngest is a bit put out (Kiki is officially his bird), I think that the neighbours will throw a party.

In other rehoming news, the peeps have all been confirmed as boys. I have also advertised them, and hope that I can manage to find them all homes before they commence doodling. They come off heat this week, so hopefully there are three new homes waiting with harems for my chaps. I am visiting them at a bare minimum, and hope that it won't be too heart wrenching to see them go.

I won't be hatching any more this year, if at all. If I decide to replace the silkies (who am I kidding? If?) I am hoping to source some young females. I will allow the youngest to pick one, as his new hen. Secretly, he still hankers after Belinda, and I hope that I can find him a suitable replacement.

I am still hoping for a frizzle.