BP: Blood Pressure. Bleeping Poultry. Bountious Precipitation or Beautiful Pies?
I dream of beautiful pies, but that's another matter. Middle aged mum trying as per the rest of the population to lose a bit of weight... so my dreams are of the banal, pie variety. Sweet pastry pies, as being vegetarian there's not a lot of choice. No actually the higgidy pies have a couple of good ones, but I digress, and I've only just started.
BP. Bl***y Poultry (1)
I love my hens. You know I do. The new ones are settling in at last, and have finally got the hang of going to bed properly. They gave in to the inevitable since the rain storms of late. Their fear of the dominant hens was washed away!!! and they put themselves inside the hen house instead of sitting on the roof waiting for mum/me to push them in...
So tonight, at 8.40pm, it's dark and raining. The hens must be in bed by now I thought. I got my coat, hat and crocs (kept by the kitchen door, for slipping on and off when going into/back from the garden) on, and went down to the bottom of the garden. All well. All inside. Except for Brownie. She's scratching in the quagmire that's their enclosure, looking for worms being drowned out of their holes. No problem. She won't be long I thought. I waited a bit. The rain came down. I waited a bit more. The rain came down, harder. She can't last much longer. The rain continued. So did the hen.
Come on. By this time I couldn't tell if the hen was a shadow and the shadow was the hen. How much longer??? The rain eased off. Come on. Nope. Well there's no point going back into the house, I'll wait here until she goes in. Can't be much longer now. Can it? The rain came back. The hen was still out. I can't actually see her. Oh, she's over there. The rain came harder, again. This is stupid. Bl***y hen, go to bed. The rest of the hens are in, do you think you're an owl or something? Finally. The rain got the better of her, and she sidled off, casual as you like, hopped onto the ladder and off to bed.
Just the quagmire for me to negotiate, close the hen-house door, and voila! I'm home and dry, in the kitchen, and it's 9.00pm. TWENTY MINUTES standing waiting for the flipping hen to go to bed. Really. Sometimes I just wonder....
BP. Bleeping Poultry (2)
So on Wednesday I'm off work (our library's closed on Wednesday), and I'm doing a bit of this, a bit of that. And I look from the kitchen window down the garden to spy on/observe the hens. I can see a portion of their patch through the yew hedge that divides the garden in two. And although it's raining, again one of the new hens doesn't look right.
So I get my coat on, crocs on and go take a closer look. Classic unhappy bird posture, hunched, tail down, looking miserable. Staying in one place - not a normal behaviour for a bird. So, I trundle back to the rabbit hutch. Of course, I hear you say. I've found in my years of hen keeping, that's it's useful to have a hospital/isolation unit. For this purpose I found a rabbit hutch, and this is kept close to the house, so tending to the isolated bird is easier.
Check the rabbit hutch is clean, fresh newspaper, water, food supplies, and then I go to collect Goldie to make observations and keep out of the rain. Worried now, when I go to pick her up, she takes a couple of steps and trips over. Twice. Not good. Once in the hutch, she stays where I put her, looking as unhappy as an unhappy hen can look. I go inside, make a cup of tea and check my hen books. Nothing quite matches the symptoms on display, but I check back after 30 minutes and hen has moved to the back of the hutch and has quite clear, runny droppings. Ah ha! something to go on. My book tells me lots about the various quality of droppings and what it signifies.
Time tells me that it's time to collect the children from school, on the way home I tell them the situation with Goldie and say we'll wait and see what develops. Tom asks if the hen dies will we get our money back? Good question from a 6 yr old, I like your style son!
On return we go to see the hen, and she's still miserable, but has looked at the food. We retreat to have supper. After supper, a quick look again, and the problem becomes clear. She's laid her first egg! On the hard surface of the hutch, so it's cracked beneath her a little, and she's not moved since laying. It's lying there between her legs. I reach in and take the egg. I'm encouraged. It must be quite discombobulating laying your first egg. I give her 30 minutes more to recover and put her back with the other girls. I throw them some corn. They all go running for it. So that was it. Goldie's first egg. BP! Brilliant Production.
And on that note I'll bid you good night. April was a wash out. Easter holidays too long, not enough blogging, sorry about that. Will try to remedy in May! TTFN as they say, and keep it sweet, Kat :)
I dream of beautiful pies, but that's another matter. Middle aged mum trying as per the rest of the population to lose a bit of weight... so my dreams are of the banal, pie variety. Sweet pastry pies, as being vegetarian there's not a lot of choice. No actually the higgidy pies have a couple of good ones, but I digress, and I've only just started.
BP. Bl***y Poultry (1)
I love my hens. You know I do. The new ones are settling in at last, and have finally got the hang of going to bed properly. They gave in to the inevitable since the rain storms of late. Their fear of the dominant hens was washed away!!! and they put themselves inside the hen house instead of sitting on the roof waiting for mum/me to push them in...
So tonight, at 8.40pm, it's dark and raining. The hens must be in bed by now I thought. I got my coat, hat and crocs (kept by the kitchen door, for slipping on and off when going into/back from the garden) on, and went down to the bottom of the garden. All well. All inside. Except for Brownie. She's scratching in the quagmire that's their enclosure, looking for worms being drowned out of their holes. No problem. She won't be long I thought. I waited a bit. The rain came down. I waited a bit more. The rain came down, harder. She can't last much longer. The rain continued. So did the hen.
Come on. By this time I couldn't tell if the hen was a shadow and the shadow was the hen. How much longer??? The rain eased off. Come on. Nope. Well there's no point going back into the house, I'll wait here until she goes in. Can't be much longer now. Can it? The rain came back. The hen was still out. I can't actually see her. Oh, she's over there. The rain came harder, again. This is stupid. Bl***y hen, go to bed. The rest of the hens are in, do you think you're an owl or something? Finally. The rain got the better of her, and she sidled off, casual as you like, hopped onto the ladder and off to bed.
Just the quagmire for me to negotiate, close the hen-house door, and voila! I'm home and dry, in the kitchen, and it's 9.00pm. TWENTY MINUTES standing waiting for the flipping hen to go to bed. Really. Sometimes I just wonder....
BP. Bleeping Poultry (2)
So on Wednesday I'm off work (our library's closed on Wednesday), and I'm doing a bit of this, a bit of that. And I look from the kitchen window down the garden to spy on/observe the hens. I can see a portion of their patch through the yew hedge that divides the garden in two. And although it's raining, again one of the new hens doesn't look right.
So I get my coat on, crocs on and go take a closer look. Classic unhappy bird posture, hunched, tail down, looking miserable. Staying in one place - not a normal behaviour for a bird. So, I trundle back to the rabbit hutch. Of course, I hear you say. I've found in my years of hen keeping, that's it's useful to have a hospital/isolation unit. For this purpose I found a rabbit hutch, and this is kept close to the house, so tending to the isolated bird is easier.
Check the rabbit hutch is clean, fresh newspaper, water, food supplies, and then I go to collect Goldie to make observations and keep out of the rain. Worried now, when I go to pick her up, she takes a couple of steps and trips over. Twice. Not good. Once in the hutch, she stays where I put her, looking as unhappy as an unhappy hen can look. I go inside, make a cup of tea and check my hen books. Nothing quite matches the symptoms on display, but I check back after 30 minutes and hen has moved to the back of the hutch and has quite clear, runny droppings. Ah ha! something to go on. My book tells me lots about the various quality of droppings and what it signifies.
Time tells me that it's time to collect the children from school, on the way home I tell them the situation with Goldie and say we'll wait and see what develops. Tom asks if the hen dies will we get our money back? Good question from a 6 yr old, I like your style son!
On return we go to see the hen, and she's still miserable, but has looked at the food. We retreat to have supper. After supper, a quick look again, and the problem becomes clear. She's laid her first egg! On the hard surface of the hutch, so it's cracked beneath her a little, and she's not moved since laying. It's lying there between her legs. I reach in and take the egg. I'm encouraged. It must be quite discombobulating laying your first egg. I give her 30 minutes more to recover and put her back with the other girls. I throw them some corn. They all go running for it. So that was it. Goldie's first egg. BP! Brilliant Production.
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| Pigeon or gargoyle? Church of SS Peter & Paul, Wantage |
And on that note I'll bid you good night. April was a wash out. Easter holidays too long, not enough blogging, sorry about that. Will try to remedy in May! TTFN as they say, and keep it sweet, Kat :)
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