Freedom of Association

The 24^th (Tuesday) sees Mum and Dad thanking everyone for their anxious wishes for “Curmudgeonly Aunt Dog Freedom Day”. I won't keep you in suspense. It went like a DREAM! Nobody died! Nobody even got a bit chewed. Kittens romped, puppy bounced about like your one off the Dulux advert and I chased about sniffing them, following them and (as far as Mum and Dad could tell) shepherding them like a Mum. There were a couple of heart-stopping moments for Mum when the chase looked a bit more serious but I checked when they said "Gently!" and in fact only ever seemed to be trying to stay with the scampering kitten, never to grab and bite. We chased happily all through the downstairs of the house, out onto the front terrace and out into the back yard (former cattle-yard) where they all met the chickens. Mum and Dad got plenty of sweet pictures and these are on Flickr (see back up thread for link). Mum and Dad gave it an hour and a half and then declared nap time for small animals while humans breathed huge sigh of relief and sat down for a coffee. There was then a shopping interlude (buying fence posts, like yer do) and the building of Stalag Chicken II (You're not getting out into the lane no more, d'yer hear?). We did another 'session' pm and then just relaxed all the guards in the evening and 2 humans, 3 babies and I all chilled out in our various ways. Peace and harmony reigns! 

There is just one interesting development which we will have to watch and that is that small 1.3kg pup, no taller than you can spread thumb and forefinger tips and looking like a ball of fluff, has decided he can charge the (relatively) huge, tall chickens and they will run away in alarm. One good puck on the little black nose would sort him out but the 'hins' are not volunteering and William is protecting them by shouting encouragement from the rear. We'll have to watch that!

Weds 25^th

We harmonious animals are all still peaceful, although kittens are incurring the wrath of womankind by trying to join them on dining table during supper. I think not, me ol' mateys!

Yay! We finally got the warm weather, so maybe that Jet Steam thing has fired a bit of high pressure our way too. "Animals in Harmony" had another successful day. I am trying not to call it Jollity Farm as per the Bonzo Dogs (see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WVqAYGW-d4U for details). Nobody died or got chewed. The Pup came out as far as the bunnies with me and Dad to say hello. He squeaked and writhed on the grass at them through the wire. They came up to the wire amazed at this weird new animal. At quarter past ten we hustled the kittens back indoors a bit quick when a short eared owl flapped silently down the eastern field. They'd been playing in the half light. They only weigh 780g, an easy lift for a birdie that big.

Hin1 and Hin2 laid nice perfect eggs in nest boxes as per their standing instructions. Hin3 decided to drop hers from the 7 foot high roosting beam before she came down in the morning. Bomb gone! Clean that lot up, Dad!  Hin4 is currently in habit of hanging on to hers till 10-ish and then laying it in the nettle patch. She was a bit frustrated to be 'caged' inside new Stalag Chicken and unable to reach nettle patch, so she clucked a quick "Blow you!", flew over the fence and went there anyway. She may be broody, hence extra determination, or it might just be a habit. Chickens do 'routine' and 'habit' very well.

With a chance finally to work the fast-drying soil of the allotment, Dad started the process of changing it into raised beds which if he'd done in the first place might have meant less drowned sulking crops this 'Summer'. We didn't Know, though. That's what everybody does here. Nobody tries to do veg’ on the flat. It rains too much, didn’t you know?

Fowl Play?

When we last mentioned chickens, we had just bought the five hens ("hins" as they say round here) and they were settling in. We've had a bit of fun since then. The first run was built in a bit of a hurry and didn't allow the birds access to the out building which we'd designated as chicken house (formerly milking shed). We were therefore carrying them to/from morning and evening in a cardboard box.

On the Tuesday we were able to buy chicken wire and Dad constructed a bigger, more permanent run for the girls which let onto the back door of the milking shed. He then constructed a pop-hole in the door so that the chooks could get to and from under their own steam. The chooks, meanwhile had got used to roosting in the calf house manger which was actually at the 'wrong end' of the outbuilding, not in the bit we wanted them to have.

 Next job, then, was to build the chicken 'cage' within the outbuilding, restricting them to the correct end, where they were given perfectly good perches to replace the manger bar they'd adopted. 7 feet high should be good enough a barrier, considered Dad, so he built the mesh barrier up to wall height, leaving the apex up into the rafters open. However we did not have any decent wood to build a doorway out of so the 'wall' of chicken wire was left with a door-way opening into which Mum wedged the frame of the futon bed; it wasn't the full 7 feet tall but we figured it would keep the birds contained

Not a bit of it. The morning saw them all lined up on the former perch in the manger. No problem. Mum and Dad were amused by the girls' persistence and determination, to have hopped over the futon frame, but thought that with a proper 7-foot tall door would put a stop to their gallop. Amusingly, too we seemed to have the laziest chooks in Roscommon. Even though the pop-hole was open nobody went free ranging, it being cold and wet out. They remained indoors, preferring to be 'barn-reared' rather than free range, if that's alright with you, Mr Farmer!

The 7 foot tall door? Effective? Not a bit of it. When Dad went out to check on the gang last thing at night, not only were 2 chooks on the manger bar perch again, but the remaining 3 were sitting roosting on top of the 7 foot mesh barrier, obviously quite capable of getting up that high, probably in stages via the intended perches up the 'new end'. Nothing for it but to chicken wire all the way to the rafters and apex, which Dad did next day. The day was finally won, and the girls, vocal and annoyed that evening, are now contained in the right end. They'll get used to it.

Mum and Dad decided that as there were no neighbours to annoy, they would add a cockerel to the mix. The cock bird could marshall and help protect his ladies as well as sometimes getting them to go purposefully broody so that we might have replacement stock of young birds and some cockerel-pullets for the pot. They contacted Tom again from FreeRangePoultry.ie who told us he had cock birds for sale at 17 weeks old (a bit younger than our girls, who are now 23 weeks old and should be LAYING EGGS (Hint hint!) by now. On Friday 18th May, Mum and Dad drove down through Ballyhaunis and County Mayo to Athenry to collect their boy, who they decided should be called William the Conqueror to cement the Sussex connection and maybe inspire him to heroics and good protecting and marshalling. He looked rather fine, upright and proud all be it a bit stumpy where his tail feathers were mainly gone, presumably pulled out by the dozens and dozens of females in his rather crowded home-pen in Mayo.

Here again, the girls decided that all was not going to go according to plan. They did not love him and they did not want him in their run so they roughed him up a bit. The poor lamb did nothing to fight back and over the Friday and Saturday just seemed to get more and more bullied and more and more miserable. Nobody was actually hurting him or trying to peck him hard and injure him, but the 'Lovely Girls' (as they have now been named) would ignore him, have a quick peck as he went by, not roost with him and leave him behind when they went out to scratch in the sun (which they all now do happily after the first 3 lazy days). By this morning he was sitting hunched up in the hen house looking a picture of abject misery and we know from experience that chooks left like this will just go downhill, off their food and then fall off their perches, dead for no apparent reason.

Something had to be done. Mum and Dad were off shopping in Castlebar and decided that if William was still being pathetic by the time they got back, they'd force him out into the sunshine and make him see the grass and scenery. Bring him out of himself. This they did and it seems to have been the making of him. He seemed to come to in the sunshine and started striding about, scratching and pecking, eating grass and feed pellets, preening and doing a bit of sun bathing in the heat of today (it was very warm in the sunshine). We were a bit worried, even so, that the girls would take themselves off to bed last thing, leaving him out doors where Dad would have to round him up but, no, the last-thing checks revealed him indoors and roosting cuddled up to one of the girls. He must have taken himself off indoors with them. We hope this is a turning point, and tomorrow he'll be accepted into the gang properly.

Watch this space
Deefs