Back in the Chicken Game!

We'd been nosing around on the internet trying to find a source of Light Sussex chickens preferably at about 22 weeks age (known as "point of lay" or POL; your girls are just about to start their egg laying careers and the boys, who breeders do not really want too many of, have become obviously male and can be weeded out). But the discussion forums were very quiet and no-one was coming forward in reply to any of our entreaties. All the for sale birds seemed to be miles away, mainly in Northern Ireland. Thinking it might take a while to find birds, we'd not done anything about building housing or a chicken run. Then on Friday Dad chanced upon a clickable button saying "future sales" and four clicks in found a poultry sale in Roscommon on Sunday, 2 days away! Rosco is at the other end of the county but is still only half an hour away. Thinking this might be a professional sale where traders are auctioning off thousands of birds, Mum and Dad grabbed one of the big packing boxes and headed off on Sunday morning, not too full of hope. We found the sale in a rough old car park opposite the cattle market and we could tell immediately that this was not a professional event. It was more like a little car boot sale - the car park was full of very agricultural looking vans, cars and trailers and a crowd of rather disreputable looking lad and lasses hanging round each. Our hearts sank. The poultry was 'displayed' in a collection of badly soiled crates and boxes, many crammed with way too many ducks or chickens, some cockerels let loose to run around doing their own thing. The birds looked, for the most part, fairly grubby and were obviously not going to have any kind of quality or health guarantee or certification. Many were obviously of mixed lineage, so 'mongrel' chickens, generic "poultry". This was cash-only and you'd be lucky to even get a name of whom you were trading with. None the less Mum and Dad worked their way round counter-clockwise and at half way point came across a guy with a few Light Sussex (they thought, though there were no labels). Unfortunately there was also a bloke at the stall buying a couple of those, couple of them, one of them and.... Mum and Dad thought they'd be lucky to get 2 birds... they walked on. Then, amazing revelation, they came across a stand which had a neat row of clearly labelled crates with no more than 5 hens in each crate, a different breed in each crate, with back up stock in the clean van. Clear labels carried a photo of the variety and a laminated sign told that these were vaccinated against all manner of disease. The bloke, Tom, was bright and helpful, happy to furnish Mum with his business card and website address. He turned out to be a company called Rainbow Free Range Poultry from Athenry, Co. Galway, website FreeRangePoultry.ie; a nice website which carries a virtual tour of the place and an interview with one of the lady staff. His Sussex hens were labelled "Sussex Ponte" which we understand is a hybrid/utility version of the same thing (Crossed with a Rhode Island), they were €15 each, they were exactly the right age (22 weeks) and he was happy to sell us 5 plus give us a carrier bag of feed to see us through to Tuesday (Monday is a Bank Holiday). Dad went to bring the car and our box round and the chooks were loaded, Tom carrying four at once by the wings! Mum and Dad hurried home via a likely seller of chicken-wire, but they were closed. The chooks were left in the car while Dad quickly wrangled a run out of Sparks's old fence panels and a chunk of Thermal Panel, behind the caravan, on one end of the milking shed. The chickens were let out and allowed to settle down and explore. Being dogs, Coco and I are instinctively driven to try to get at them. Dad thinks he will eventually achieve peace like he did with Megan and Haggis and the last lot of chickens, back 10 years ago, but for now Mum and Dad have us excitedly charging round and round the run trying find, chew or dig a way in and we are subject to frequent shouts of "Deefer! Leave THEM ALONE!" Coco, amusingly, charges through a patch of stinging nettles in his excitement and stings his feet and under carriage. He is in for an uncomfortable night, rubbing himself on the bedding, trying to rub away the itches. The chooks are moved to the calf-shed for the night, being the most dog and fox proof building we had (there are discussions of whether they should live in the 2CV or the caravan, but sense prevails. The quickly clamber and scramble up to the timber which runs across the top of the feed manger - it would have been above the cow's necks as they fed - and use that as a perch. In the morning they stay put there as the rain comes down. They seem to be opting for a battery lifestyle rather than free-range, but Mum and Dad are happy to leave them be. it gives them a chance to go buy chicken wire and then to build a bigger, more serious run with a pop-hole through the door back into the manger-perch. The chooks are eventually encouraged out to come see this big new space in the sun shine of afternoon, and we dogs revert to our chasing about trying to find a way in. Not much chance there. This is chicken wire buried into the ground - no way under , over or through for a Westie and a Yorkie. As we go to press, evening is falling and Dad is patiently waiting for the girls to suss out what to do with the pop-hole. They are not very bright Deefs