Only cure for empty nest syndrome is a brand new Bluebell and a ‘Marsbar’
Idecided to organise a small celebration for Independence Day, to mark one year since the latest rescue chooks arrived. I decorated the hen house with colourful bunting and ensured the ladies had plenty of their favourite snacks – dried mealworms, sardines, oats, and some blueberries for dessert – they are VIPS or very important poultry after all.
To my mind hen zen has now been reached, when happy freeranging memories have replaced the cluckers’ previous ones of incarcerated egg laying. Sadly two of the old gals didn't quite make it, Gertie sadly lost to a fox and Clem was put to sleep. As heartbreaking as it was, I'm a pragmatist, so the sole survivors of this batch are Nancy and Aphrodite, unlikely chums mainly due to someone pecking poor Nancy's feathers.
The hen house seems a bit too quiet when I tuck the dynamic duo in at night. I'm suffering from empty nest syndrome, and the only cure is to get more chickens. I have decided to get some proper chooks this time, as rewarding as looking after rescue hens are, they aren't blessed with the longest lives. So for that reason I've booked myself into the nearest cluck ‘n’ collect poultry shop to buy some high class burds.
The website sells fancy breeds so in theory they will have long healthy lives ahead of them. At the appointed time we went to select our chickens, an assortment of birds rather than a flock of only one type. You simply point out the ones you want and they are deftly scooped up in a butterfly net.
We went for a Bluebell, which is blue grey in colour with frilly feather knickers, and will lay brown pink eggs. A stylish all black Nero with hints of green on her feathers, which glisten in the sunlight, will lay white eggs in about a month’s time. Our final pick is a chook that is a cross between a Maran and Legbar, known quaintly as a Marsbar. The fella, who is less fond of chooks than me will be appalled to learn how much I paid for her; she lays rare green eggs, so is one expensive gal.
On the same day a homeless waif appeared on the doorstep in need of a new home. Chickens are flock animals and need company, so poultry keepers will always make room for a solo hen. The homeless waif is actually a Leghorn, called Feathers 'Gucci' Mcgraw who was left bereft when an urban fox came calling. It was therefore decided she should fly the coop and head to a new life in the country.
I feel slightly sorry for the duo Nancy and Aphrodite. The next day the pair are slightly bemused to find a hen house full of little cluckers, and they were not amused.