"When snow falls, nature listens" *

The bit of nature that decided to listen this snowy winter was a family of rats.   We've had a very wet summer, so they were no doubt flooded out of their original home.  They must have thought they were in heaven when they discovered free food was available in the chicken run, even though the supply disappeared every evening.

The chickens didn't bother them much.  During the very cold weather, when the snow was 'deep and crisp and even', Fizz and the girls ate and then poddled off back into the coop.  Much warmer in there and, like me, they hate the snow.

A couple of winters back I went to check on them and found Pom-Pom chest deep in a snowdrift.   It was a good job I found her, as she couldn't work out how to escape.   So whenever it snows now, we keep the cage door closed;  we know they are safe that way.   Not that it matters, they prefer their sleeping quarters in this freezing cold weather.

Obviously, we could not allow the rats to stay.   So we got a humane trap and began to catch them, two by two initially, then one at a time.    The prisoners were then taken half a mile away and deposited in a field on the far side of the river.   Hopefully, they will settle down nicely over there.

Yesterday the snow had gone and the chickens had once again been allowed to roam freely round their run.   At dusk No. 1 Son baited the trap with a bit of cat food and some chicken food, a combination the rats seem to enjoy enormously.   He even made a trail of layers pellets which led into the trap, just in case a bit of encouragement was needed.

Most of the flock had retired for the night, but Irene was still up and about.   Not much gets past that girl's eagle eye where food is concerned, and needless to say it took no time at all for her to spot the trail of pellets.   It took even less time for her to eat them.  She pecked her way along, reached the trap and looked distinctly disappointed to discover that she couldn't reach the rest of them.

She gave the matter a bit of thought, couldn't come up with any bright ideas, so she tootled off to join the others in the coop.

*Antoinette van Kleef

Back again!

I'm relieved to say that my carpal tunnel has now sorted itself out; I had a brief spell of RSI in the other arm, but that's now OK too.

So a quick update on Fizz and the girls.

To be honest, I haven't seen much of them over the past few days.  The snow has been thick on the ground, it's been very cold, so they've spent most of their time snuggled up in the coop.   They reluctantly come down for a mid-afternoon snack, then shoot back inside to keep warm.

Very late in the Autumn,  most of the chickens decided to moult.   Titian did the same thing as last year and went for the "oven ready" look.   Unfortunately, just as she lost the last few feathers the temperature plunged.  After a day and a half of it being really, really cold she began to look quite unwell, so we decided to bring her inside until she feathered up a bit.   So she spent a week in a huge box in our kitchen.   I knew she was beginning to feel better when she demanded sunflower seeds every time she saw me.   We kept them on our dining room table and as soon as I appeared, she would go and stand in the corner of her box nearest the table and stare up at it, then at me, then back to the table, chuntering all the time.   After a week, her feathers had regrown to the point where we felt she would be well able to cope with low temperatures again, so we put her back with the others.

It was absolutely fascinating watching her feathers grow.  I know from observing them all in past years that chicken feathers grow fast.   But being able to see progress at close quarters and from one hour to the next was amazing.   In the morning there would simply be quills sticking out, by lunchtime I'd notice that some of them were darker at the ends.  Come the evening, and you could see just a tiny line of what looked like the very tip of an auburn paintbrush.  

Chickens never cease to amaze me!   More news soon.

Just to let you all know that my doctor has banned me from typing for at least 2 weeks as I've developed carpal tunnel syndrome. See you all after my "holiday" xxx

Getting Fizzicle

I've been a bit quiet about Fizz lately, but that doesn't mean he's been peaceful and relaxed of late.

Fizz assessing his chances with Punk

Last week he spotted Punk on the other side of the lawn, which she was mowing with great enthusiasm.   Usually, when Fizz decides to get amorous, she doesn't take much notice.  He does his cockerel duty and she keeps right on eating, not even blinking in surprise.   Things were so different this time, that even Punk took time out to stop munching and give Fizz a look of astonishment.

That came about because he was in such a hurry that he tried to mount her sideways!   He got part way through his leap onto her, when he realised his mistake.  He shook himself, as if trying to convince us all that he'd not noticed Punk at all and had simply bumped into her.  Then he ambled off.

However, ten minutes later he mis-timed things again.   Maggie was minding her own business, checking the lawn for grubs.   With her head down and therefore with her vent in a very inviting position, Fizz just couldn't help himself.   He rushed over, slipped on the grass and ended up by accidentally kicking Maggie up the bum!

She squawked in surprised, leapt and did a 180 degree turn to face her attacker, whom she then chased off.   This was not the conclusion Fizz had in mind when he started that little undertaking.

This afternoon, Tu-Tu was the object of his amorous attention.   She put up with the whole procedure, but when he'd finished, she shook her feathers back into place and then bit him.

I really think his romantic technique requires a bit of attention.

Age is just a number

Titian having a snooze by the summerhouse

Tu-Tu is our oldest chicken - she must be, because she laid eggs from the day she arrived in our chicken coop;  it was quite some time before the others joined in.  But I suspect that Titian is much older - well mentally anyway.

She still looks just as beautiful as she ever did.  She's a lovely rich reddish-brown colour (if you ignore the white feather near her bum) and her feathers are glossy and sleek.  So what if the odd little bunch of feathers stick out at peculiar angles and who is going to notice the occasional light brown one dotted about here and there.

And this girl has a mind of her own.   Last year she remembered that Rhode Island Reds are dual-purpose birds, being both meat and egg producers.   So although she had laid gorgeous big brown eggs in her first year, last year she didn't bother much.   I don't think she actually intended that we should stuff her with lemons and stick her in the oven.   I suspect she was just making a point, in her own inimitable fashion.

She's returned to prolific egg laying again now.   These days her eggs are still brown, but that's where the similarity with her early eggs stops.  Her current products are half the size they were before and each of them has a cute pointy top.  The shells are paper-thin too.   It doesn't matter what we feed her to try and thicken them up a bit, they remain stubbornly fragile.

Maybe she's just decided to make sure we don't eat too much fried stuff. If you break her eggs into a frying pan you discover that although the yolks are nice and big, there's not much white and what there is, is watery and sticks tenaciously to the pan.   We've learned to scramble all Titian's eggs.   For one thing it's safer breaking them over a bowl.   You may end up with bits of shell in there too, but at least Titian's eggs aren't draped across the kitchen counter and dripping onto the floor that's just been washed.

She's only three, so in real terms she's a middle-aged Rhode Island Red, not an old girl at all.   But just as some people are old at 25, I rather imagine the same applies to other creatures too.   Maybe Titian falls into that category.

This and that

There can't be too many people who've been nagged by a wild pheasant, but it happened to me last week.

I was sitting in the garden with the chickens when I heard a soft muttering, which definitely wasn't coming from the chickens.   I looked up and there was Mrs Pheasant on my garden wall, glaring at me.

Our lovely neighbourhood female pheasant

She's usually around at mid-afternoon and if I'm out too, I drop a few handfuls of corn into the field for her.  When she sees me, she comes running over, knowing there's food to be had.   Evidently she wanted her afternoon tea now and what was I doing?  Chatting to chickens, that's what!

She graciously posed for No. 1 Son, while I sorted her food out.   She's a lovely bird and no photograph could possibly do justice to the subtle shading and patterns of her feathers. 

Moving on ......

A couple of weeks ago the floor of the spare coop fell down into the cage below.   Both Titian and Pom-Pom like to lay their eggs on the cage floor, so it was fortunate that neither of them were there when the floor nose-dived.

A couple of days later, I was having a headcount and realised Titian was missing.  I looked everywhere!  I went back and forth between the garden and the run, looking in places that even tinyTu-Tu couldn't have squeezed into.   I was beginning to get frantic when I had a brainwave.  I opened up the side door of the spare coop and there was Titian, comfortably settled in the nest box.  She gave me a look that clearly said, "Do you mind?  I could do with a little privacy here."   With no floor, all she'd had to do was hop up into this new inner sanctum - much more secluded than the cage below.  Evidently Rebecca has found this hidy hole too, because one of her eggs was in there today.

Pom-Pom, on the other hand, isn't bothered about privacy one little bit.   No. 1 Son had cut a hedge and piled the clippings in the garden to await being chopped up and put on the compost heap.   Pom-Pom spotted this neat heap of twigs and leaves, decided it would make a good nest, and started stomping around to flatten it down a bit.

Pom-Pom starts organising a nest suitable for a high-class hen like her

It mattered not one iota that the pile was large and she was small.  This is one determined little hen.  It took her a while, but eventually she had flattened a nice-sized area.   Then she looked around, decided there was something not quite right about it and laid her egg near the dustbath.

And finally we come to one of the Three Musketeers a.k.a. Fizz.   You'll need to remember what his headgear looks like - droopy these days, so here's a reminder:

He managed to get someone else's fluffy, downy white feather attached to his own hairdo.  It drooped elegantly down from near the top of his head at a decidedly rakish angle.   He reminded me so much of the impetuous, reckless young D'Artagnon.  It could only happen to him!

Titian has a cantankerous day

It was a lovely, hazy morning when I went down to open up the chickens this morning.  The sun (which has now disappeared yet again) was busy burning off the mist that lingered lazily over the field at the back of the garden.  Two Canada geese and their three teenaged youngsters had dropped by to inspect the lake which has formed there again - thanks to all the recent rain. There was a calm, peaceful air about the place.

This was in complete contrast to  a few days ago, when there was complete mayhem!

Earlier in the day, when the coop had been opened up, Titian and Fizz had had a glaring match.  Necks were stretched forward, beaks were mere inches apart and they glowered at each other.   Neither was prepared to look away first.   At least not until Fizz forgot why he was glowering and took himself off for breakfast.

All was fine until that afternoon when the chickens and I went into the garden.   Titian and Fizz found themselves on the lawn, about a yard apart.   Fizz was wondering which girl to bonk next;  Punk was handy, but Tu-Tu was looking rather tempting.   So it came as a complete surprise when Titian fluffed up her chest feathers and charged at him.  

The force of her onslaught sent him staggering into the temporary chickenwire fence.   Deciding that a getaway was his best defence, he tried to escape.   But Titian employed some fancy footwork (for a heavyweight) and walloped him just as he reached the hen run gate.

He took off again and managed to get as far as the smoking shelter when Titian caught up with him and hostilities continued.   And this time, she had reinforcements.   Rebecca came galloping in and jumped on Fizz's back.  I could almost hear the thought rushing through her little brain, "Now you know what I have to put up with!"

I was about to intervene when Fizz managed to fly up onto the smoking shelter roof and from there into the upper part of the run.   Titian decided she'd done enough to teach him a lesson and wandered back into the garden.   Rebecca, looking hugely disappointed, followed her out.

There was no obvious reason for either the morning scowls or the afternoon fracas.   Maybe Titian was irritated because Fizz has been bullying Irene (see my last post).  Or maybe it was something else entirely.   You can never tell with chickens, can you.