Counting your chickens and realising you may be addicted to hoards of hens
When I first started keeping hens I set upon a maximum number of four, enough to supply a few eggs but not too many to destroy the garden. My girls in the latest headcount number nine.
The newest recruits are Lucky and Precious, a couple of waifs that I picked up. The two bantams, Myrtle and Mindy, are usually to be found glued to each others’ side unless one of them is off laying an egg. Mindy went broody and all hell broke loose; she fell out with everybody, including her top pal. Despite having no chance of producing chicks, as there is a strict no cockerel policy here at Hen HQ, she was obsessed by trying to become a mother hen. Chooks become furiously hormonal when they are broody. They sit on their nest defending it against all and will starve themselves by not leaving the nest to eat. A poultry pal has named her broody hen Pecky Sue, as everyone is afraid to approach her.
Poor Myrtle didn’t know what had happened. One day she was best buddies with her sister and the next day it was war. She had nowhere to hide and had to dodge the wrath of both her sister as well as the big girls and the stress of it all had her off colour. Sleeping arrangements had to be altered and Mindy had to spend a few nights in broody jail, to cool down her urges and return her behaviour to normal. It got me thinking... perhaps a third bantam could be the answer when it happens again. I haven’t broken that news to the fella, who is not so fond of hens as I, just yet.
Hen fans need to save a date in their diaries: Saturday 17 September 2022. What’s the occasion? It is the return of the world-famous Elphin Chicken Day, which is held in a small Highland community, with funds raised going towards the coffers of Elphin Community Hall. The day is a wholesome celebration of all things related to our feathered friends. The highlight of the event is the famous chicken race. The chooks are placed under starter’s orders and then hurtle at breakneck speed across an obstacle course to get to their owners and, more crucially, snacks. There is also an egg throwing competition, although acouple of years ago a competitor misaimed and ended up splatting a parked car. So keep a keen eye out for flying oeufs. I’m not sure whether or not the girls and I will be able to attend but I have instigated a training programme. Snacks are being limited and a daily dawn jog introduced. Feathers, the leghorn, has been cut from the team as a result of her ongoing limp, yet she and fellow oldster Nancy are both pretty quick of the mark to reach the back door for breakfast. The pair have decided only they should be allowed inside to Hoover up any cat food the feline has been foolish enough to leave.