Oliver Boliver

Survival of the fittest

I once read somewhere that chickens seem to put every effort in finding many ways to die. That would certainly be the case with our flock. So it came to pass that poor Paula Hen fell off her perch in the night and went floating up to the chicken heaven in the sky. Well, that's what we told Oliver. (If chickens do have souls then I suppose there is no reason why they wouldn't float and if they can indeed float then why should they not pass go, do not collect £200 and go straight to Chicken Heaven).

Oliver looked blankly after we explained all this and in typical 3 year old fashion simply asked when we'd be getting some more. This was what Mr C was dreading. Y'see even though getting the chickens was his seed of an idea, he planted it deep into the pet owning part of my brain which just can't say no. He on the other hand is not a big fan of feathered creatures and has found the whole experience a more take take take on the part of the chickens. Even consuming the eggs became a chore for him. To add insult to injury when they stopped laying over the winter, it drove him to angrily shake a box of Paxo at them!

 

Ol and Brenda in Summer 09

So what to do? Brenda (a speckledy hybrid) has been left as being the sole survivor of the bunch and my research has shown that they are not solitary creatures and prefer the company of other chickens. Not something that could be said about Pam chicken who was a very angry piece of work, nasty through and through and positively thrived when, last year, she was sentenced to a period of confinement after relentlessly hen pecking poor Paula till she bled. Mr C would happily give Brenda to a good home and draw a line under our chicken owning days. Me, I rather enjoy owning chickens despite the destruction they leave in the veg patch and piles of poo on the lawn. I like seeing them honk around the garden, chasing the cats. Yes - chasing the cats. It's hilarious. One even chased my friend's spaniel puppy, Stella, around the garden leaving the poor pup in a quibbling mess. They make big holes in the slug population too. Something I tell Mr C on a daily basis as he is a hosta lover.

I've found a company, not far from our patch, called Happy Chicks who will deliver us a pair of point of lay hens, possibly even as soon as next week. The lovely lady at Happy Chicks, Sarah, was very helpful and pointed me in the direction of a Black Rock and a Blue Ranger, both very friendly docile birds who will join forces with Brenda and I against the anti-hen owning Mr C. Between us we will chase the cats, pledge war against the slug population and run around the garden with frogs in our beaks (I'll probably leave that bit to the hens!).

I don't feel too bad about not having a decent mourning period for Paula Hen. Sarah said that Brenda will welcome the company of the two new girls and so it's Brenda I've got to put first.

So, Ollie - the answer is yes. (Sorry Mr C...I'll make it up to you with a lovely omlette.....!!! )

Three become two

It's a sad day for the usually Happy Cluckers....

Pam Chicken sadly parted company with us in the night and three chickens have now become two. She'd been under the weather for a little while now and when I popped her back in the coop last night I didn't think that she put up much of fight. It's hard to tell with chickens what was wrong so I hope for the sake of the other two that it was an isolated infection.

Brenda and Paula chicken are seemingly unhinged by the loss. Typical! I'll break the news to children gently later but I suspect they'll be as sympathetic as the remaining chickens! Kids!

I should have some cheerier crafting news in the next few days so do watch this space!

Pen x

Houdini Hens

They must have been hatching (excuse the pun) their escape plan for weeks; in fact ever since they were put under house arrest.  All they were waiting for was the numpty egg collector to have a senior moment and out they popped through the egg collecting hatch this morning.  I came down to the kitchen to fix Oliver some breakfast before sending him off to school and there were Paula and Brenda Chicken seeing to some serious lawn aeration! Pam must have been a late starter as she was still tucked up in the roost, presumably wondering where draft was coming from!

Chicken Run and Bald Chicken Bottoms!

I telephoned Forsham Cottage Arks today enquiring about an extension for our Boughton chicken ark. Since the latest fox-escapades I don't think it's wise to keep tempting fate and the girls have been put under strict house arrest! I have been advised on several occassions that the Boughton unit is perfectly big enough for only 3 chickens but I can't help but think that a extension run would make their lives happier and healthier especially in a permanent position. So a phone call later and an extension ordered I happened to mention that our chickens have been suffering from bald bottoms and I wasn't sure what to do about it. A lovely lady called Cindy spoke to me and we went through lots of possibilities such as stress, a lack of protein in their diet or bullying; none of which appear to be relevant although it may be that they have developed over the summer a preference for corn over their layers pellets which may have something to do with it. So I'm going to try reducing their treats and checking for mites as a first instance and see how that fares. Fingers crossed they'll have fluffier bums in a month or so!

A sad day for the not so happy cluckers

I suppose the day had to come - I just didn't think it would happen to a coop like ours.

It's strange how you can wake up one morning and know that everything is just so; not much different from the day before and probably fairly similar to the one before that.

Then - out of nowhere, something bursts in on your cosy little world and upsets the whole balance. Here enters the wily reynard, the fantastic Mr Fox. Roald Dahl knew his leading beau fairly well and with hindsight so should we. But we foolishly believed the fox had become tired of seeing his dinner locked safely inside the purposebuilt coop and had gone window shopping elsewhere. We were guilty of being happily relaxed about their bedtime, pushing it back later and later.

Sadly for Sue Chicken, Mr Fox does not live in our blinkered world where everything has a naive sense of mutual respect. Mr Fox has to find his dinner. Everyday. Tesco does not deliver.

So, Sue has gone to the big Chicken Coop in the sky where I hope it rains corn and slugs grow on trees. I suppose we have to give the wily old fox some credit for his staying power; but certainly not this week.

Can everything really taste like chicken - even if you are a chicken?

David and I were sat enjoying a nice cold beer in the garden, catching the last of the sun and watching the chickens lazily peck peck pecking away at anything that catches their beady unblinkered attention. Suddenly Sue chicken burst into a sprint which Usain Bolt would be proud of and started to hurtle around the garden closely followed in a Benny Hill like fashion by Pam, Paula and Brenda. Sue had happened upon an unfortunate frog and had it clasped firmly in her vice like beak, legs dangling in the early evening sunlight. Not wishing to share this tasty luxury with her peers she greedily decided that the only option was to run.

And run she did.

This way and that way, a side step here, dodge a chicken there, round the dog, under, over, through. She managed to shake off Brenda, who quite typically in her namesake's fashion, had decided to the buck the trend and go shopping. Paula decided it wasn't worth the chase which left Pam still in the game. One false chicken footing and Sue lost her edge. In swooped Pam Schumacher snapping at the frog's legs and took the prize and the lead! Round and round went Pam, round and round went Sue until finally and graciously (or sorts) they decided that they were both winners and would share the prize. In the shade of the apple tree Kermit found his last resting place as Pam and Sue did him justice.

The question is whether in the roost review that night if Brenda and Paula, the losers in the frog foray, nervously asked the winners whether Kermie could possibly taste like chicken.....?

A fishy in a (not so) little dishy

Moving day for the fish has finally arrived.

I had intended to do it all properly by ushering him into a polythene bag and then floating it on the top of the new aquarium enabling him to explore his new pad in his own time.  Instead, he was fast tracked and poured liberally out of a pyrex measuring jug into his des res!

He was a bit quiet for an hour or two but can now be seen gleefully motoring around his new home as if he owns the place.

The only thing is he appears to be turning a silvery colour from his belly upwards. I'm thinking he was probably already like this and I'm now just noticing it under the scrutiny of his halogen phased disco lighting. He's just so this season, I can't keep up!

Broody Brenda Chicken

Oh no - Brenda's gone all broody!

I've forcibly ejected her from the nesting box twice in the last 2 hours and she was pretty non-plussed.  I can't quite work out the dynamics but suspect that the other girls are squeezing in beside her, popping an egg out and then she's keeping it warm for them! In fact they're so warm I think they're almost starting to cook!

She's still laying for the moment but I'll have to have a search on t'internet tomorrow and see what I can do to snap her out of it.

Sold - subject to contract

6 weeks ago I decided in my usual whimsicle fashion to treat our long suffering goldfish to a new tank.  Sarah won him at Sale fair last year and to be honest I didn't think he'd see the week out.

However, he's clearly made of sturdy stuff and one year later he's managed to see off a series of unfortunate events including 3 determined cats trying their paws out at goldfish tickling. Sadly for him he's been living in the fish equivalent of a bed sit and I thought now's the time to treat him to something more along the lines of city living. Smooth clean lines, halogen spot lighting complete with moonlight phases and finally, (although probably higher on his list of priorities than mine) a filter.

I did my research and despite its critism I sourced a Biorb life. A perfect batchelor pad. (Please don't mention to him there'll be no opportunity to have any moonlight swims with the fairer sex.)  My research included how to avoid new tank syndrome.

6 weeks later and he's still not moved tanks. We sit looking at the shiny batchelor pad minus fish. I'm hopeless and just can't decide whether it's ok for him to move yet and whether the "fishless cycling" thing has worked. I'm going crazy with chemical testing kits and pondering over the exact pigment colour of the test result.

Maybe, I'll relent and release the keys to him tomorrow?