Managing Interlopers

Yesterday, both children had a friend around to play after school. Naturally, chaos ensued. The visiting children were excited, and boisterous, and fascinated by the hens. The girls did not share their enthusiasm.

I watched anxiously from the kitchen window as a noisy game of football started. With semi-hysterical cheeriness, I called for them to 'Watch the greenhouse! Its not safety glass!' and 'Mind the chooks!'. The chooks watched developments amid much chuntering. They ambled away from the marauding pack of boys and positioned themselves in the safety of the shrub border.

My children are used to the hens, and treat them with gentleness and respect. Other children tend to want to grab, to cuddle and to lug about. One of the visiting boys approached Mabel, and gave her a rather enthusiastic stroke. The startled Millefleur bok-ARKed and waddled for the safety of the coop. The other hens froze, and watched this strange miniature human cautiously. He then turned to Doris, who muttered offendedly but tolerated his gentle stroke to her comb. However, when both hands reached forwards with a definite motive to grab, she took flight and followed her illustrious leader back to the Convent.

Maeve was the next hen in the visiting childs immediate vicinity. She had watched all of the preceeding handling keenly, and now cocked her head to one side, sizing up her opponent. At this point, sensing imminent danger, I told the visiting boy that the hens don't like to be picked up, and that the small black hen was a bit grumpy. He either didn't hear me or chose to ignore my warning.

He reached forward and grabbed Maeve around the middle. She suffered this indignity silently, which was when I knew he was in trouble. Raising her to face level, he started talking to her. I flew out of the back door yelling 'Noooooooo!'. He turned towards me, removing his nose from pecking distance thankfully. Maeve used this opportunity to deliver a solid peck to his wrist. In surprise, he dropped her. Maeve calmly spread her wings, and landed heavily but safely at his feet. She then turned in a circle, and raised her hackle feathers. At this point, I thought it best to suggest ice lollies and a DVD.

The four boys then took their noise and enthusiasm inside. Slowly, the other girls emerged from the coop. Maeve strutted around the garden, bokking off and generally suggesting that you come and have a go if you think you're hard enough. The visiting child was unhurt, but decidedly more wary of the feathery footballs that did not want to make friends.

Maeve reigns supreme.

An Accidental Purchase

I have had an accident. A terrible, ebay related accident. I was perusing chickenny stuff (as you do) when I saw a second hand manual incubator. Just a little, hobbyist one. I watched in horror as my fingers danced across the keyboard, and made a bid. I then watched in even more horror as the end of the auction dawned, and my bid won. Oops.

The ever tolerant husband has so far said nothing. I suspect he is biding his time. At some point, he will no doubt raise this accidental aquisition, and inquire as to my intentions. I have no idea what I will tell him.

Yes, in an ideal world, I would love to hatch some frizzle pekins. On first glance, it all seems like a Very Good Idea. However, I'm not completely clueless. Hatching chicks comes with responsibilities. The greatest of these responsibilities as far as I'm concerned is dealing with the resultant boys. I would love to keep a cockerel, but it is just not going to happen. So then you have a problem. There are many more cockerels hatched every year than will ever be needed. Indeed, it can be hard to even give them away. Responsible breeders often choose to cull any male chicks as soon as they're identifiable. I want to be responsible, and that is what is giving me pause for thought.

If I do hatch, I will only be popping three or four eggs in to the incubator. Out of those eggs, it's concievable that two could hatch boys. It is possible to rehome such a small number, perhaps, but it is in no way guaranteed.

More thought required.

In Fine Voice

When you keep hens, you don't need a calendar to tell you that spring has sprung. For one thing, the eggs starting piling up in the nest boxes. For another, the girls become rather, erm, frisky. Maude has been waddling in front of me and crouching for weeks now, and is beginning to get frustrated with my lack of compliance. She fears not for her own safety, and I have narrowly avoided squashing the daft bird several times. Mabel has taken to flattening the others in an extremely disciplined and systematic way. Its got so that the next hen assumes the position as soon as she clocks Mabel approaching.

All of this fertility is the very essence of spring. In an attempt to find an obliging male suitor, the ladies have taken to bokking their heads off at regular intervals (I have taken to rushing outside and flapping a tea towel at them in an effort to shut them up. They watch this with interest, and then take up their song as soon as I retreat indoors). One chook starts the fracas, usually because she's laid an egg. It is soon taken up by the others, as one by one they fall under the spell. I listen to all this racket anxiously, and send boxes of eggs to the neighbours by way of an apology. Even the chooklets are getting in on the act, despite being several months from maturity.

I remember this phenomenon from last spring, and if memeory serves me it should all calm down again sometime around May. Probably just in time for the first hen to catch broody. In the mean time, I shall continue to waft my tea towel and throw slices of bread out of the back door.

Some exciting developments with regards to the chook palace. My Dad has agreed to take a look at my favourite (expensive) design, and let me know whether its doable. I am both excited and nervous, as I haven't yet told him that I want a hanging carved sign reading 'The Convent'. He will definitely think I've lost the plot. The benefits of having the palace built bespoke means that I can get the exact dimensions I require.

Dimensions which would be suitable for ten small hens....