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A Miraculous Recovery
Posted by Beth in Beth's Blog on December 1st, 2009
After a painful week watching Dave’s health worsen, something amazing has happened. Dave seems to have made a full recovery!
We’re not sure whether to attribute the transformation to patient hand feeding, a course of antibiotics or even a generous dose of poultry tonic but the old Dave is back.
She spent the weekend strutting round the kitchen telling the disgruntled cat who’s boss.
It just goes to show how easy it is to write off a bird too quickly. It’s easy to assume the worse but some loving care can make quite miraculous transformations.
It’s certainly the best Christmas present we could have wished for.
Poorly Dave
Posted by Beth in Beth's Blog on November 26th, 2009
After finally ridding our birds of a red mite infestation, yet another drama has struck our coup. Poor Dave is not looking good.
During birdy breakfast I noticed something was not right. Normally first to the feed, Dave was lagging behind and seemed to be very uncoordinated. Upon further inspection, it became clear she is very unwell.
A call to the vet suggested removing her from the coup and a dose of antibiotics, which I have loyally administered. Unfortunately it doesn’t look like she has long to go.
It’s easy to attempt to self diagnose in these situations. I have almost an entire library of books on poultry health but I’m not a vet therefore it’s all just speculation. May poultry problems can only be diagnosed postmortem so whilst the vet may not be able to give you an answer, it’s always best to get the birds checked.
Today I’ll be keeping my fingers crossed for Dave, a much loved beautiful hen.
Our tiny red nightmare
Posted by Beth in Beth's Blog on November 24th, 2009
This month, every poultry owners nightmare has become our tiny red reality. Red mite has struck!
As much as you think it is never going to happen to you, it seems a regime of hygine and rigorous checks are not always a deterrent. Now the blighters are here, it’s been a gloves off fight to keep the birds healthy.
We instantly disinfected the entire coup and stocked the shelves with red mite powder, applying a generous coating to everything in sight every other day.
We haven’t seen a mite now for two weeks but the attacks had taken their tole. The birds have been left looking scruffy and upsettingly anemic. As their health has returned so has the spring in their step but I fear the war is far from over.
Let’s hope a spell of cold weather will send the mites scurrying to their tiny red graves.
Stay tuned for the latest on the saga!
The curse of broody Bruno
Posted by Beth in Beth's Blog on October 2nd, 2009
They tell me chickens are low maintenance. Hmmmm… not our broody Bruno!
For the past three weeks overall egg production has dropped our coup and the dreaded broodiness has set in. Our once inquisitive, loving Pekin Bantum has been transformed into an agoraphobic, angry recluse.
No matter how fast we remove eggs, as soon as they’re replaced, Bruno is back at her post, guarding her spoils.
Experienced poultry keepers have suggested a variety of tricks and witchcraft to snap her out of her spell but to date her motherly instincts have overpowered our efforts.
A dunk in a bucket of water just left her a little damp, a night in the garden may have made her shiver but did nothing to deter her and a run around the garden simply heightened her aggravation.
Any attempt to lower her body temperature has been met with blunt refusal. So, where do we go from here?
I’m tempted to wait it out but I miss my daft ball of fun that is Bruno!
Want to hear the chicken’s point of view? Visit my Chicken Talk Blog.
You can also follow my chickens on Twitter.
The Lady and The Wrestler
Posted by Beth in Beth's Blog on June 3rd, 2009
Last week was a week filled with revelations. Finally we heard our first cock-a-doodle-do. As soon as the first piercing cry of dominance came emanating from the enclosure, a chain reaction began. Fajhita – the leader of the pack – let the way, followed by Mo, who could only quite manage a muted cock-a-doodle-honk. As the end of the week drew to a close, the boys had all finally revealed themselves.
The hens in the flock began to show their frustration at the morning wake up, as did our neighbours (which also prompted some absurd questions about bird flu), so off to the farm we went. Packed up and ready to start their new lives as breeding cocks, we felt proud at the enormous elegance of the birds.
As we arrived at Perfect Poultry, the size and splendour of our young males paled in comparison to the grandeur of some of the elderly gentlemen, who were to become their new peers. We sent the boys off to meet their fate and they were faced with a barrage of pecks and punches. My boyfriend watched the look of horror on my face and we both began to wonder if we had done the right thing.
After an hour of viewing with our hearts in our stomachs, all slowly seemed to smooth itself out. The boys showed their loyalty, protecting each other and as we left them they were cuddled up together in a show of solidarity. Despite our concerns we knew we had done the right thing. The size and volume cockerels embody is far better suited to a farm with land, space and certainly more freedom than we could provide.
Next, our thoughts turned to part two of our adventure. We had always aimed for six hens but had been left with four.
Beautiful Bessie
So, there was room for two new additions to our flock. We headed over the hen house to admire the variety of breeds on offer. With our hearts already set on two Silkie hens, we selected a beautiful little partridge girl – which we named The Ram – and a ball of white fluff, Bessie.
Back in Leytonstone, we decided to dive straight into the introductions process and let the birds out to free range with our flock (covered in a coating of anti-peck spray). Already disgruntled to be parted from their friends and after a long journey in the back of a minibus, the Silkies did not look best pleased.
Whilst we had been away, the pecking order in our existing flock had already recalibrated. Keen to secure her place in the ranks, Captain Jack Sparrow launched the first attack. The Ram lived up to her name and retaliated with some success but poor Bessie spent the next day cowering in the corner.
The Ram
A few days have now passed and the Silkies are beginning to become accepted. A reluctance to join the girls at bedtime leads us to believe they’re not yet fully integrated, but for us the introduction process has gone fairly smoothly. With careful monitoring and a lot of love and attention a flock can be expanded without too much disruption. Never the less, stay tuned, as I’m sure the tales of Bessie the lady and Ram the wrestler have only just begun.
Want to hear the chicken’s point of view? Visit my Chicken Talk Blog.
You can also follow my chickens on Twitter.
To treat or not to treat?
Posted by Beth in Beth's Blog on May 23rd, 2009
My brother and his partner are also fans of all things feathery. Whilst they do not tend their own flock, Cat’s father is an experienced poultry fanatic and has often thrown tips and advice my way. He recently shared a tit bit that pushed my anxiety levels out of sync.
It’s a challenge for any chicken owner to look down on the birds knowing eyes and resist the urge to satisfy their every need. We all know that birds will eat most of what is put in front of them – not unlike my brother – but how much is too much?
Cat’s father had often thrown down a little extra corn to his birds without concern – until recently when one of the birds passed. As the results returned from the chicken’s autopsy, it was clear the bird had been overweight. Whilst this was not apparent to the eye, the bird was ‘fat on the inside’ – an insult we regularly throw at our elder brother who, I have to admit, is actually quite streamline.
To overfeed was certainly not their intention yet in their innocence, it had happened. One does not imagine corn can kill but an overdose can be deadly. I hit the net to try and assimilate a solution. ‘Moderation’ was thrown around with the highest frequency – a word weighted heavily with ambiguity. Since there is no chicken treadmill on the market, the best solution I was able to source is to make the birds work for their treats.
Hanging vegetables high in the air is a trick we have tried with our birds. This keeps them occupied and out of trouble for hours. The are also treat balls, usually positioned for cats or rodents, which slowly distribute corm or meal worms as they are knocked or pecked. A pecker block is another recent addition to our enclosure – these can be baked at home to cut down on cost and numerous delicious recipes are available online.
Our birds have certainly experienced a cutback on the calories and are hopefully healthier for it. They may think they have had their revenge by devouring my flower bed but I’m sure they would one day thank me if they could.
Want to hear the chicken’s point of view? Visit my Chicken Talk Blog.
You can also follow my chickens on Twitter.
Which came first, the chicken or the cat?
Posted by Beth in Beth's Blog on May 18th, 2009
Disgruntled cat on coup
Following the events of Black Friday, our flock pecking order has had a regig with some curious results. Fajhita, who was one of the birds injured in the attacks, now controls the coup and Bruno, our tiny Pekin, seems suddenly to command some respect. The one lasting victim has been our long suffering moggie cat, Smudge.
Poor Smudgie has always feared her daily routine, which usually begins with a claw to the nose from a neighbourhood tom. When the chickens arrived, she truly believed she had regained some power. Once she had taken her daily beating, patrolling the coup gave her a sense of purpose. Perhaps she was a sheepdog in a previous life but the glee she gained from rounding up the chickens surpassed even her favourite treats and bedtime tickles.
This weekend, Pingu and Fajhita decided enough was enough. As Smudge emerged for her morning skulk round the garden, the chickens had a different agenda. They would not be stopped from destroying my flower beds by their furry master. Neck feathers rose, wings flapped and a disgruntled cat was left running to me for comfort, tail between her legs.
One of our initial concerns when adopting poultry was the sheer volume of cats that inhabit our garden. It is now feline welfare that we fear for. After nursing Smudgie’s hurt feelings I couldn’t help but be impressed by the potential for ferociousness our birds sometimes exhibit.
Do not be fooled by the beautiful balls of feathers – a dark side lurks within our chickens, waiting to be unleashed on any being brave enough to challenge them.
Want to hear the chicken’s point of view? Visit my Chicken Talk Blog.
You can also follow my chickens on Twitter.
Black Friday
Posted by Beth in Beth's Blog on May 11th, 2009
The Trouble Makers
I’m sorry to start on a sad note but, last weekend, devastation hit our coup. Our slightly special yet superb Silkie Mr Fantastic passed away. After we had overcome the emotional upset we realised we had a somewhat larger problem on our hands. In our tendency to humanise the birds we explained it away as mourning but a few moments later it was clear – the birds had gone mad!
Whether it was the loss of a friend, a glitch in the pecking order or even the unseasonable sunshine we shall never know – either way the birds appeared to be killing each other. Oscar had a bloody beak, Fahita was crying in the corner and the general mist of feathers in the air sent a chill down my spine. We had found ourselves in the middle of a feather-pecking spree.
I took my usual solution to everything approach and hit the net. I was told to tar the injured birds, cover them all with anti-peck spray, install a pecker block and fit an unusual device to their beaks known as bumper bits. All very well for those with easy access to a shed of supplies.
Since I began my obsession with all that is feathery, I have acquired a strong network of poultry fanatics who, in my hour of need, clamoured together. Other local owners sprang out of the woodwork, as if by magic, bumper bits in hand. After a short trip over the boarder into Romford in Essex and a crash course in the difficulties of fitting said bumper bits, my birds slowly returned to normal.
Although the experience was truly traumatic, I was strangely left with a warm and fuzzy feeling. When you enter the world of all things chicken, you are also welcomed into a new community of help and support. Urban farmers can sometimes feel isolated but this need not be the case when a keyboard is on hand. I only hope I can one day return the favour to a fellow poultry fancier in need.
Want to hear the chickens point of view? Visit my chicken talk blog.
You can also follow my chickens on Twitter.
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