A new life, free to roam.

So..our new arrivals settled in, from their big coop they could see the original four and chat from a distance whilst we could be happy knowing they couldn’t pass on any nasty illnesses or mites.
It was amazing how fast they blossomed…..their pink bits, wattles and combs, started to redden, feathers started to sprout all while egg laying never stopped, what amazing little creatures they were.

It wasn’t all plain sailing though a couple of the newbies suffered from ……..well I’m going to call it agoraphobia! I had to lift them out to eat then they rushed back inside, these particular little souls didn’t last long, they stopped eating and died within weeks.
I’d done my best for them but the shock of going from intensive to free range was too much. Rescue chickens are known as ‘spent’ hens meaning there’s nothing left in them, for these two that may have been true but for the other seven life was just beginning.

They soon moved in with the original four and the ‘pecking order’ began. Hens can be cruel when it comes to living together all the best sayings come from hens….. ‘hen pecked’, ‘pecking order’, ‘no spring chicken’, ‘don’t count your chickens before they’ve hatched’, ‘ruling the roost’, you get my gist here. They had plenty of space so although there was the odd fisty cuffs, everyone could get out of the way and they got along just fine.

The new girls had the best time, eggs were plentiful and as I could sell the eggs the girls helped pay towards their keep. They sunbathed together and hung out in their own little groups, like school children in the playground. They all had their own little personalities, one in particular that stands out was a little blonde hen we called Fatty, from day one when she arrived we noticed her claws were desperately over grown and she could hardly stand, i fetched the dog claw cutters but couldn’t get through her claws. She pecked her corn frantically. Jim got his wire cutters and I held her as he managed to cut them so she could stand properly, as I placed her on the grass she hit the corn bowl nearly too fast for the naked eye to see, corn sprayed out and the bowl tipped over, she was a comfort eater and I could sympathise. I soon realised Fatty was not just a comfort eater but a eater of every kind she just LOVED her food! First at the feeder, fastest consumer of treats, she would even muscle the dogs out of the way if they had snacks and scoff them down, the flowers in the garden disappeared, the bulbs were dug up and I think we could have trained her to sit on command for a worm, Fatty’s waistline or lack of it reflected her love of food but that was fine she was happy .

Beryl was probably the smartest hen we had, she took herself off each day and ate the food that was provided for our longhorn calves in the next field. As they ate their food, bits dropped to the floor and Beryl dodged their little feet and cleared up. She was also partial to raisins and would tap on the kitchen window for our attention.

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The little rescues continued to grow feathers and enjoy life, scratching, pecking and dust bathing, life was good. As the weather started to change and winter approached I worried that rats might get under the coop, Jim raised their coop on stilts and they had a plank to get in and out, this was brilliant because they could also shelter underneath when it rained! They had no problem learning to use their plank as I covered it with treats!

Over a period of 2 years eating, drinking and enjoying their retirement the little ‘spent hens’ passed away one by one peacefully and although it upset us deeply, we knew they had had an amazing end to their lives.

However tragedy struck December 2017 when I went to feed the remaining girls their corn one snowy morning and couldn’t find them, I searched all over for them and eventually discovered the last ones we had were gone, except for some feathers and blood.

They had been killed and taken by a fox.

My poor little hens, life is cruel, but I took some comfort in reality the fox must have been hungry as she’d taken them, probably had cubs to feed and I shouldn’t be too hard on her..but that was the last straw for me, I was done with chicken keeping, I couldn’t protect them so I wasn’t having any more.

or so I though……to be continued……

O&J