Mucking out

I can think of better ways to start my day than leaning into a chicken coop and removing last night's collection of poo!   But it has to be done.  This morning, Pom-Pom decided to make things even more awkward for me.

She's invariably the last to get up in the morning, but usually moves when I open the coop's side door.  Not today though;  today she stayed put on her perch.   As she was sitting right in front of the door, this made things a bit tricky.   For one thing, my view was restricted.    Was there poo on the floor beyond her which I couldn't see or was that area clear?  Reaching round her to collect what I could see wasn't easy either.

Pom-Pom

It was only when I was back in the kitchen, enjoying a well deserved cup of tea, that the solution presented itself to me.   Just pick the damned chicken up, put her outside - then pick the poo!

Well I'm not at my best first thing in the morning!

Yummy!!!

Most of the flock are moulting, some more than others.   I wondered if the moult might account for Maggie and Punk being so bad tempered.   After all, growing new feathers takes a lot out of them.   On top of that, both Punk and Rebecca are continuing to lay eggs, when normally this function would stop.

We've been putting apple cider vinegar in their water, to give them a bit of a boost.   However, I decided to give them some organic live plain yoghurt so they'd all be getting extra protein. 

They've not had it before, so I wasn't sure whether they'd eat it or not.   I needn't have bothered worrying.   They decided I had produced the nectar of the gods for them, and absolutely loved it.  

Most of them ate it the same way they would eat seeds, but not Rebecca.   She licked lots of it into her beak, then raised her head and let it slide down her throat with a look of sheer ecstacy on her face.   Good, good, good. Hopefully  she'll soon start getting a covering of feathers on her face so that she stops resembling a mini-vulture.

'Tis but a scratch

Do not stand behind Irene when she's scratching, whether it's in the hen run or the garden.   She has the most powerful scratch technique in the flock.   She's been known to send small rocks flying a considerable distance away, so wood chips and pebbles present no problem whatsoever.   And as for soil - hah!  Australia, here she comes.

Maggie is considerably smaller and lighter (under that huge volume of feathers lurks a rather small bantam).  However, her scratching skill is also a force to be reckoned with.   When she and Irene team up, they've been known to excavate deep craters in the hen run.  You certainly wouldn't want to fall into one without having a handy ladder secreted about your person.

The Araucanas have watched and learned.   Out of the two of them, Punk has watched and learned most.  She puts her heart and soul into her scratching routine;  her whole body is thrown from side to side as she tries to emulate her mentor, Irene.  Rebecca does her best, but her real talent lies in swooping in and pinching a worm that others have energetically exposed.

Tu-Tu's not bad either.   She also puts a lot of energy into her efforts and is remarkably proficient considering she's the smallest bird in the flock.

Tu-Tu and Maggie - gram for gram, the two best scratchers

Then we come to the rest of them.  Titian is even bigger and bulkier than Irene, but watching her scratch is great if you're feeling a bit down and need a laugh.   For a start, she doesn't like getting her feet dirty, so she only ever scratches when she's on the lawn.  And then it's the most delicate, lady-like scratch you've ever seen.   I could do better with my wellies on!

Pom-Pom is willing to give it a go if necessary, she just doesn't often feel it's necessary.  And as for Fizz - well if Titian doesn't manage to make you laugh, Fizz certainly will.   For ages he had no idea how to scratch and, like so many other things, has learnt how to do it from the girls.   So rather than a good, strong, manly scratch, his efforts are more ..... erm  .............. feminine.

Block it off

Irene striking a pose for the camera

Irene isn't the world's deepest thinker, in fact as thoughts go hers are exceptionally shallow.   Mostly they revolve around wanting what other chickens have got - and getting it for herself.   We're mostly talking treats here.

Yesterday she was convinced that there were treats to be had in the form of wild bird food which had fallen from the feeders.   But she was also convinced that the wild birds had hidden it away, so that she shouldn't have it.

But she's a very determined gal is our Irene.   After giving it a nano-second's thought, she realised that they would have put it all under the dozen or so small blocks of wood which were lined up on the concrete ledge beneath the fence.   Obvious place really, should have thought of it myself.

The ledge is too narrow for her to climb onto (she's a big girl), so she couldn't use her powerful back-kick to move the offending blocks.   But that didn't stop her.   She'd hoik a block off with her beak, kick it out of the way and eat whatever she found underneath.   She worked her way all along the line of blocks until each and every one lay scattered all over the paved area leading to the hen run.

Job done, she wandered off to see if any of the others had something tasty for her to pinch.

Chatty chickens

Most of the chickens have something to say at one time or another, but Titian is the most talkative by a very long way.   But she likes to have someone to talk to - and mostly that someone is me.

If Titian were human, I suspect she would be the neighbourhood gossip.   The sort who leans on the front gate and says to random passers-by, "Far be it from me to spread rumours, but have you heard ....... ".   As it is, she has to content herself with telling me what her companions have been getting up to in the chicken run.

To be fair though, we have solved quite a few world problems between us.   At least, I think we have.   It's hard to be certain because if I'm honest, I can't understand a word she says.

That may be why my thoughts drift off in a different direction sometimes, and Titian doesn't have my full and undivided attention.   But there's no fooling that hen.   She quickly picks up on my lapse in concentration and pulls at my trouser leg to bring me back to the subject under discussion.

Rebecca and Titian

Seeing all this conversation taking place seems to have affected Rebecca The Vulture.   Of late, she too has taken to chatting to me.   She doesn't join in with Titian, but tries to catch me when nobody else is nearby.   She looks me in the eye and chunters quietly to me - she's not loud and clear like Titian.

She's an Araucana and they originally came from the Chile/Peru border many generations ago.   Which makes me wonder whether she's really talking to me or whether, in fact, she's quietly singing "Guantanamera, Guajira Guantanamera".  Could be it's in her genes.

Changing fashions

Most of the chickens are moulting, although Tu-Tu has decided to give it a miss ..... so far.  

Fizz has opted to moult at both ends of his body so as well as losing his tail, his scrawny neck is clearly visible.   Pom-Pom has also lost tail and neck feathers, as well as a bit in the middle - just to keep it even.  

Maggie went for the reverse Mohican look by having a bald patch along her spine, but an abundance of fluff on either side.   Maybe that was what decided Rebecca to take the opportunity to completely overhaul her "look" and try something really different.   She went for what I can only describe as The Vulture.

Is Rebecca searching for carrion?

Maybe she really likes her new image and has decided to keep it, because there's no sign of re-growth at the moment!

Sheepish

Once I've opened the coop up in the morning and chatted to the chickens, I usually wander over to the garden wall and take a few moments to savour the ambience of the field beyond.   It sets me up for the day.

Sometimes there's a combination of early morning light and a slight mist that could have you believe you're in the middle of a film set.

Or it could be the wonderful freshness of North Yorkshire's air.   Often you can hear a cock pheasant in the distance, announcing to the world that this is his personal territory.

Today it was the sheep.   I've been watching this particular flock since many of them were bouncy little lambs.   At this time in the morning they're usually making their way up from the bottom of the field to the top

It seems they were fed up with being scrutinised by me, so as a group of 20 or so walked past they turned the tables.   For the first time ever, each and every one of them stopped in front of me.   Each and every one of them looked at me intently for a few moments, then moved on.

I have a sneaking suspicion they couldn't believe their ovine eyes and my poor taste.   I was wearing a free National Geographic fleece!  Their fleeces were far superior.