Reining in the chooks - just for now.

Thank goodness, the careless neighbour with the dogs is moving out. I've constructed a temporary wire and post fence that will keep the dogs at bay, but will hold the chickens in my garden and not give them access to the field behind the house. It's a shame for them as they love combing the field for food and it's excellent exercise, but I can't trust my neighbour to keep her dogs under control.

Just to explain, I have lived here for three years. My chickens have always been free range, and when someone wanted to rent next door with a dog, they had to ask permission from the landlord to have one as they were banned. It was agreed then that they would fence their own garden area in to protect their dog from the busy road, to stop it from wandering onto my lawn and also to protect the incumbent chickens. But if the neighbour doesn't shut the garden gate, their dogs are a menace first to my chickens, then to me, and then potentially to the busy road that has trucks driving past all the time. You would think that any dog owner would be more careful if they loved their dog, wouldn't you?

Anyway, so now there is a veritable revolution-style barricade between the houses at the rear (the most vulnerable part as that is where she enters her house) and today my lovely brother came over with his tools and muscles and together we had fun building a quick fence at the bottom of the garden. My chickens have the full range of my garden and undergrowth until the neighbour moves out - then they get full run out the back of the field again. My brother wants me to put them in a run, but I can't. I don't believe it's good for the chickens, and I want to protect them from the current threat, but I won't be over-protective and totally fence them in permanently in a small area. Small area runs are the biggest cause of mite transfer, insanitary conditions, unhappy chickens and the inevitable pecking and bad behaviour that boredom causes.

My chickens have every inch of area that I can give them, apart from in the house. If they respected the 'No defecating indoors' rule, I'd let them inside too!

Dog attack

My neighbour let her new big dogs loose and they jumped over the pathetically short fence they erected between the houses for their old small dog and attacked my chickens. Thankfully my chooks all managed to scatter and weren't badly hurt, but they are understandably skittish. It took me two hours to get them all home again, which is rare. Normally chickens won't come back if there's been an attack, so I've been really lucky. Grace even managed to go back into the kennel-nest where she'd been attacked and got back to laying her egg.

Would you believe that my neighbour said that my chickens had taunted them and made them do it?

Another egg from Ava

It's a miracle. I looked into the nesting 'kennel' that my chickens prefer to lay in, and there were two eggs; one beautiful brown egg from Grace and a perfectly formed white one from Ava. It's always a lovely day when there's two eggs, and when Ken comes back into lay at about the same time that Betsey should start to lay her first eggs, then I'll be completely inundated with them!

Blimey - if all four hens start regularly laying at the same time, I'll have to start selling the excess.

Cold, wet and February

I think the chickens are enjoying this month more than I am! They are loving the start of greenery and more daylight. Ava is still trying to lay eggs, but today she laid an egg and then broke the incredibly thin shell when she sat back down on it. Poor thing - after all that work too! Grace laid another egg, as per usual, and tomorrow I will be doing another egg drop to my neighbours as I'm overloaded again.

Ken is happily within the flock again. I keep nearly treading on her as she has a habit of hanging round my feet and she's so tiny I don't see her. She seems to be becoming slightly less aggressive towards my bantam cockerel, Barnaby, which is good news. He was originally bought to be her 'mate', but till now she's either ignored him or attacked him. He's young, bless, and I think she's teaching him how to treat her properly - like the true lady she is.

A beautiful clean Ken

Clean Ken!

The other egg wasn't viable, so I took the opportunity to take Ken's mind off it by giving her a damn good clean. She's now out and about running around trying to make up for not having been outside for about a week. Poor thing. Brooding is hard on the hen, but at least now she is free again to wander where she wants. Betsey was delighted to see her and nearly ran her over when she went running towards her.

Father and daughter

What a clean White Sussex looks like, for about a week...

Still no chick and George claw update

I've checked Ken the broody hen twice, but still no chick. There isn't even a little 'pipping' noise, so the hatching hasn't even started - and I'm losing faith that it will. I don't think it's going to happen this time. :(

I had a big old cuddle with George and checked his nails. I took off the micropore tape and his nail didn't start bleeding, so that's all healed now. In fact, the old man down the road, Alva, who originally found George, couldn't believe how big he'd become. He's not just a skeleton with feathers hanging off it - he's a whopping great turkey sized hug-magnet! Actually, he's looking a bit grubby - but he's going to be one hell of a blow dry.

Ava was washed again today, but using my new method of washing liquid and whitener and a final rinse with white vinegar in it to get off the remains of the soap. I think it took at least half the time and the blow dry was quicker too. I just held her with confidence and went for it, so there was a lot less faffing about. She still had a few ground in stains, but I think she should look as good as Grace tomorrow in the light.

No chick today

Day 20 of the incubation, and it's getting to crunch time. If that egg is fertile, surely it should be hatching soon?

How to put a plaster on a cockerel...

...yes, really! As I'd promised Grace, I decided to trim George's claws today. I set about catching him (easy - he's massive and too lazy to run), then sat down with him on my lap with my cat's nail clippers and a nail file beside me. I clip Anya's nails all the time, so I didn't think it'd be a problem.

George's claws are seriously massive. I decided to take about a fifth off and then file them smooth. On the first clip, blood started to drip out of his nail! He didn't seem to notice, but I was gutted. I clipped far less off the next nail - no problem. But the third nail was a disaster - another dripping wound. I put the clippers down and put pressure on the tips of both nails until they stopped bleeding. George is so good, I really don't think he noticed! After a while they seemed to be ok, so I continued by just using a metal file to smooth all of his claws. Five minutes later we were done, so I let him go and carried on with my day.

An hour or so later I found George standing on the path with a red foot. The blood wasn't gushing, but it was obvious that his clipped veins had succumbed to pressure and gravity and opened up. I picked him up, took him straight to the kitchen and put him in the sink. Some salty water disinfected and cleaned him up, but the blood wouldn't stop coming. At a total loss I suddenly thought, superglue! I left him, confused, in the sink and set about tearing the house apart looking for the glue. I found it, dried his feet and then squirted glue more on my fingers than on his feet. It seemed to work, so I let him go outside again.

Ten minutes later - still bleeding! This time I gathered him up, put him on his back on my lap as I sat in a garden chair and stuck his feet in the air. My thinking this time was, use gravity to create a clot and then plug it. We both waited for ages for it to clot, but the sun was out and it was really nice. George actually dropped off to sleep and was a little miffed when I woke him by starting to wrap micropore tape around his nail and securely onto his toe. We waited a bit longer - still in the chair - and the tape stayed white. I let him go and he trundled off happily up the path towards the field.

I must have done the right thing - he was in the field for a good hour with the girls and Barnaby and when he came back the tape was still white. Phew.

Note to self - regardless of what other websites say - NEVER use clippers on a chicken! 

With that drama over, I went to check on Ken the hen and her two eggs. It's the first day that they may hatch out, though I'm certain they will keep us waiting, just like Betsy did. At this stage I start by listening against the little nursery coop to see if I can hear the 'cheep' of a newly hatched chick.

Nothing, as expected.

I opened the door to the bed area and found an angry hen screaming at me - so far, so normal.

I felt under the wings and found one of the eggs and lifted it to my ear - sometimes you can hear the tapping as they are hatching - sometimes they even cheep at you!

Nothing - so far, more normal.

I popped it back under her wing and felt for the other egg.

Now it started to get unusual - I found an eggshell that had been tapped into and was empty, but there was no chick. It smelled bad and there look like some sort of substance near her. Very, very odd. I think she knew it wasn't viable and broke it open. Whatever happened next, she ended up with the eggshell stuck fast to her feathers and hardened yolk making her feathers rigid.

So, one egg down and one to go. I really hope egg number two isn't a disappointment too. Ken will soon forget about it, but I'll be gutted!

Pretty Clean!

Click the image to see a larger version

After a lovely wash last night, Grace (right) is looking as clean as her daughter, Betsey (front). Ava (left), needs another wash after my first unsuccessful attempt. She looks gray, which is hardly surprising after such a mucky winter and regularly mating with George's big dirty claws on her back! 

If you ever wanted proof that Arial Actilift and the Arial stain remover actually do work - just look at Grace! Perhaps I should contact the manufacturers... ;)

Sun's out - get the camera!

The sun has had an amazing effect on Grace, she laid two eggs! I think she must have laid one yesterday evening and another this morning, as per usual. Ava also laid one, so incredibly when I looked into the nest I found three eggs. I haven't had that many since the girls first started laying, so I guess spring is here!

This is a bit of video of the chooks wandering the garden, along with the 'Nursery Cage'. The chicken that wanders to the left is Betsey the chick, who is only half grown!

I cover the cage at night to protect Ken the hen from the February temperatures, but she's quite happy in there along with some food and water. I couldn't catch her on the video - it's just too dark in there.

I checked the eggs she's sitting on today and they haven't started hatching yet, dammit! I'm so impatient.

This is a picture of Betsey, the world's biggest three month old chick, and below that is a family shot of Grace and George with their gigantic offspring that will, hopefully, be a daughter.

Betsey at nearly 13 weeks old.

Mum, Dad and Baby!

You can see from the size of Dad that Betsey should easily out-grow her Mum by the time she's fully grown at six months. I'm fascinated to see which characteristics have been bred from the cross - the Orpington has beautiful feathers and the Sussex is a great layer, (apart from Ava), so if I get those, what a fabulous chicken Betsey will be; big, fluffy and a good layer.

Are here they all are - though Ken is hidden in the nursery cage. I love this picture because it show the immense size of George the Buff Orpington and also the beauty of my bantam cockerel, Barnaby. He may be small, but he's perfectly formed.

Hatching soon?

I noticed this morning that Ken the hen was no longer coming out of the coop to feed. This means that the last few days of the brood are finally here and, hopefully, one or both of those eggs will be hatchlings and soon working their way out of the shells!

I always move Ken into her own cage when the time is near, so she and the chicks will be safe from the older birds and I can easily give her food and water without her having to leave them on their own. When they hatch they will be stuck to her like glue for weeks, so giving her a safe place for them all is important.

Moving her wasn't easy though. Just picking the aggressive little madam up earned me a few more battle scars, and she trusts me! If she had to, she would kill a creature that threatened her eggs. This is how chickens have survived for millions of years - determination and aggression. Not all pullets or hens become a good broody, which may be best for you if you don't have a cockerel and don't plan to try to hatch eggs. So if you want to avoid a regular broody battle with a frustrated would-be nanny-hen, steer clear of bantam breeds. They're famous for their ability to hatch, and if they can't - they'll try to hatch anything!

In the picture, Ken, with no eggs to brood over, is stubbornly trying to hatch out a blue dustpan brush.

Getting ready for chicks

Ken the hen is currently on day 15 of her incubation of two eggs - so I'm starting to get excited! If the eggs aren't viable she usually kicks them away at about this time, and so far she hasn't. If I'm really lucky, in about 6 or 7 days I might get two seriously cute little yellow fluffy hatchlings.

This is how Betsey looked a few weeks after she was born. So unbelievably cute!

When she first came out of the egg she looked exactly like a little Easter Chick on a card; the colour of egg yolk and pure fluff with big black eyes.

Hopefully the two eggs under Ken will both hatch out equally cute Buff Orpington/Light Sussex cross chicks.

In preparation I've been pressure-washing this a-frame cage again. It's the perfect size for the final few days of her brooding and when the eggs start to hatch there won't be any massive clod-hopping cockerel feet in the way and potentially killing the chicks.

This is Ken with a chick she hatched out about 18 months ago, Adorable!

Fingers crossed all goes well!

The joys of owning poultry and the story of my first hens.

I don't know how she knew, but after months of no eggs, today Ava laid an absolutely beautiful egg. Perhaps when I was washing her the other day she felt the evil intent in my hands and took the hint? We'll never know, 'cos she'll never tell [sigh]. The egg was a good size and the shell was almost the right thickness, though I did find a thin spot and ended up accidentally cracking it. I have given all the chickens extra supplements to build their shell-making nutrients, but her eggs are always thin. It's frustrating, but I don't know what else to do.

So this week I've ended up with more eggs than I know what to do with. This is a lovely position to be in, so earlier I did an 'egg drop' to some of my neighbours. There's Alva, the old man down the road who found me George the Rooster, so he was a happy recipient of a few eggs along with a bit of local gossip and tales of his cockerels conquests; and another neighbour, Jo and Brian, who were incredibly helpful when I got into sick chicken difficulties last year. People love being given free range eggs from chickens they know and it's a nice way for me to thank them for their support.

I've never charged for my eggs as I prefer to share the rewards with the people who've helped me along the way. I know some people put up a sign and sell their excess eggs, then put the cash into a pot to pay for their chickens' food and various supplements. I only have three hens and, barring Grace, they are sporadic layers so don't produce many eggs. Frankly, after the first eighteen months when I had three hens and only got, maybe, 50 eggs in the entire time - I'm delighted to be able to give a few away; confident that more will replace them.

I started off with three bantam hens from the local Fur and Feather Market and named them Kentucky, Fry and Chicken. The first day they laid one egg, then made me wait weeks until another egg arrived. Each day I would go to the nesting box and tentatively lift the lid, hoping that today would be different and a miraculous egg would appear, but no. It took weeks. When it happens, it's ruddy fabulous. It's like the hens have finally decided that you're OK, and, yes, you can have an egg as a reward for all that food and mucking out their poo.

It's nice to think that they react to us in such a human manner, but consider the size of a chickens head. It's about the size of a large sprout, but the brain doesn't fill it. As much as I love the little peckers, they are not the most intelligent creatures on the planet. However, they are one of the most successful species. They're descended from dinosaurs, after all - hence the scaly legs. They're a beautifully simple species, and if you get a bunch of well bred, healthy chickens, they will lay eggs and live for years; just don't expect them to build a particle accelerator behind their favourite bush!

Getting to the regular egg stage is easier said than done. Of the three hens I started with, I only have one left. One important point to make here is that they were all bantams. Bantams are notorious for being characters and also skittish. People think that because they're small, they'll be easier to deal with. Erm..... no. They're argumentative, difficult to catch and I would never let a child hold one as they peck and scream until released. If you want to give a child a phobia of birds? Give then a bantam to hold.

Fry was taken by a neighbour's dog and Chicken was so scared by the attack that she ran into the field and refused to come back into the safety of the coop. I caught her once and brought her back, but the next day I let her out and she went back to the fields. That's the way with free-range - they choose to live in your coop, and if they suffer a scare and take against it, they won't come back. There's nothing you can do. You don't 'own' free-range hens and you have to accept that you will lose some along the way; regardless of whether you keep them in a run or let them run wild.

However, every loss is an opportunity to learn from your experiences and rebuild with new chickens and maybe, remember why you started poultry-keeping and get back to fulfilling your aim. I treated my first three hens like free-range pets - but what I really wanted was a minimum of an egg a day.

So I had one hen left, Ken. Depressed at the loss of her gang; moulting everywhere and at the start of a cold winter. The only thing I could do was to care for her the best way I could, so she was brought into the house; much to the bemusement of the cat.

For six wintry weeks Ken lived in a small animal A-frame cage on the kitchen floor. She had food, water and warmth, and she even had our company. I am in and out of the kitchen all day long, so she had plenty to keep her occupied and I spoke to her every time I saw her. Eventually she started to eat more and even came out of the cage and walked around under the kitchen table. Anya kept her distance (they fought once and Ken won) and Ken gradually got back to her old self. Her feathers grew back and in January the weather finally started looking up. Ken was ready to go back outside, but she wasn't going to be alone.

Washing a chicken!

It's been a mucky old winter and my two Light Sussex chickens are looking very grey and muddy. Today I finally decided to start doing something about the 'Ava not laying eggs' situation by getting up close and personal. She's a wily little hen, so she wasn't easy to catch, and when I did she amazed me at how heavy she is! I've never dispatched a hen in order to eat them, and I don't know if eating hens is advisable (it's usually cockerels that are eaten), so I need to look into it as she would make a fabulous Sunday lunch.

Anyway, once I'd caught her and had a cursory look over her, I decided to try and get some of the winter grime out of her coat. I tried what I did last time, which was to use a gentle animal insecticidal shampoo in the sink and gently work it through the feathers. She wasn't having any of it - and neither was her grime. I think she needs a good wash and rinse in the washing machine with a laundry whitener!

This is how it should be done: http://www.wikihow.com/Wash-a-Chicken

I think I'll be investing in three cheap garden trugs for the next time I try, and it'll be outside and on a nice sunny day. Honestly, it's rare that anything turns out to be more simple than you thought it would with damn chickens, but if I'm going to put the hens through the trauma of a good wash, it makes sense to do it properly.

Now I keep finding random Ava feathers round the house!

UPDATE: 13th February 2011

So I tried the method above, and on a white chicken it only shifted about half of the muck. Borax? Flipping useless on my chickens! Eventually, and with a disgruntled Grace getting angrier by the minute, I eventually soaked her in Ariel with Actilift (clothes washing liquid) and a laundry whitener. That actually did the trick really well, and I wished I done that in the first place! I could have had the muck out in a quarter of the time and had a far less distressed chicken.

The blow dry was immense. It took approximately an hour and neither of us really enjoyed it. I found it helpful to sit in front of a mirror so I could see all round Grace and to ensure I got into all her crevices. She looks lovely now, although it may take her a while to forgive and forget.

Whilst I was blow-drying her I found some pretty large wounds from George's mating. My next job tomorrow is to get hold of him and cut those massive claws back. I had no idea he was doing so much damage!

I finished her grooming by putting some petroleum jelly on her comb, wattle and legs. It give them a nice sheen and, in the case of her legs, helps to get rid of any scaly mites - although I couldn't see any.

 

14th February 2011

This morning the sun is shining and bouncing off her whiteness - she looks like a fantastic advert for washing liquid and is making Ava look seriously gray!

Beginners Guide to Chickens: Basic information

To seriously begin thinking about whether or not to have chickens, you need to consider a number of options. First, do you have local support/permission? Only then can you start to consider whether you have enough space and budget for a suitably sized coop and birds.

If you read the newspapers and believe them, 'back-yard' chicken-keeping is at an all time high - or at least since WW2. As I live in the country, I haven't seen any difference, in fact, locally, many people have given up trying to keep chickens as they can get incredibly cheap eggs from the supermarket without having to clean out a coop every day.

I can understand why they do this, as keeping chickens is not a cheap option of getting eggs. It's a hobby; it's enjoyable; it's a conversation piece; it's not cheap, but chicken fanciers think it's worth it. When you've spent time picking and purchasing a coop, setting it up, buying or acquiring your chickens and establishing a flock; the sense of pride is immense when that first egg appears. The trick is to make sure you get more than one egg, so the return on your investment isn't the cost of the coop, food and hens for a single egg worth 25p.

So, we don't need to keep chickens to get cheap eggs, which is lucky as you will probably have months without getting any eggs at all. The little buggers will happily chomp their way through your carefully selected layers pellets - designed specifically to give your hens the best nutrition to lay eggs - but no eggs appear. This could be for a number of reasons:

1. Your chickens are too young, too old or badly bred.
   
   Hens start to lay at approx 5 to 6 months old and may lay for years. However, they lay sporadically when they are coming into maturity and going into old age. I have one chicken, Ava, who has laid eggs in the summer, but unlike her prolific companion, Grace, has only laid a few useless soft shelled eggs for the last three months. Both chickens have the same diet and supplements, but she just can't get a decent egg out. I have finally decided that this must be down to bad breeding, which I can do nothing about. Many people keep under-performing hens despite the lack of eggs as they've grown attached to them. Understandable, but this means you are feeding hens for no output. At this stage you are keeping them as a pet. I'm not sure I like Ava enough to keep her, so I have a daily internal discussion about whether today is the day she goes 'to see the farmer'. So far, she's winning.
   
   
2. The breed of the chicken is not a heavy-laying type.
   
   There are a multitude of chickens that are pretty-looking (Orpington), unusual (Silkies), or that lay pastel coloured eggs (Arucana). Generally speaking, the prettier breeds are not great on laying an egg a day over a sustained period. Grace, my Light Sussex, has laid 29 eggs in every month since she matured into laying as her breed has been bred to lay up to 300 eggs a year. A specialised breed could lay no more than a dozen eggs a year, or none at all - depending on the quality of its' breeding. I had a beautiful blue Brahma hen who never laid an egg and died young; which is always sad.
   
   If you are looking for a good layer, the Rhode Island Red or Sussex breeds are both excellent and easy to find in rural 'Fur and Feather Auctions', or through breeders that can be found online.
   
   
3. The chicken has been traumatised.
   
   My blue Brahma hen was unfortunate enough to be chased twice by a neighbours small dog that had escaped from its' garden. It was as if her spirit had been broken and she simply faded away. Incredibly sad, and quite common in the larger or over-bred specialist breeds. They are a bit like owning a race-horse - highly strung. Even a 'hardy' breed will suffer if there is a fox or dog attack, but they will recover quicker. How long is up to them, but I've had chickens seemingly die of shock and others who just kept on laying the following day. Amazingly, and despite their breed, each chicken reacts individually.
   
   
4. Your hen is broody.
   
   My beloved bantam Maran, Ken the hen, is a typical broody. Even at 3 years old, she will lay a dozen eggs and then go broody. At this point, if the eggs could be fertile from one of the cockerels, I will pop a couple underneath her and let her get on with it. In 20-24 days, if I'm lucky, a couple of little chicks hatch out. If you don't have a cockerel, then your hen going broody is a waste of both your time. She will sit in the coop or in a nest somewhere else and stubbornly remain there until it finally occurs to her that there are no eggs underneath her. She can't help it - she's just following a hundred million year-old chemical instruction to keep the species going.
   
   The best cure for broodiness? Chuck her out of the nest and deny her access. She'll shout at you for a few days, but eventually she'll give up and go back into a laying phase again - until the cycle starts all over again. I use my broody to hatch out other fertilised eggs - such as George and Grace's. A broody isn't fussy over what eggs she sits on - she's just glad to have some eggs to fuss over.
   
   
5. Your chicken is a cockerel. Seriously. It's easy to get confused when you first start out. I'll write more about this in a later section. But a quick solution is to either eat them or sell them at a Fur and Feather Auction.

So what sort of flock do you want?

Taking these laying factors into account, you can start to think about what sort of flock you want. Do you want a pretty flock of little Silkies that won't make too much mess and will be good with children? Do you want to have occasional eggs in pretty colours? Or do you want to lay enough eggs to feed your family?  You can mix your breeds, as I have done, to get a combination of pretty and utilitarian hard core egg-layers. You can choose to re-home ex-battery hens and you can even choose to do without a cockerel. The chances are that when people hear that you are setting up a flock, people will try to donate their unwanted hens and cockerels, so beware of what you are saying 'yes' to and beware of falling in love with unsuitable chickens that will not help you to achieve the balance in the flock that you are trying to achieve.

It's a heck of a lot easier to get a chook than to get rid of a chook.

To cockerel or not to cockerel?

No, you don't have to have a noisy, food-gobbling cockerel in your flock. In many urban areas cockerels are  banned, so it's lucky for us that a hen doesn't need a cockerel to lay an egg. I'll say that again:

A hen can lay eggs without a cockerel.

In my experience, a flock of hens is a much more argumentative place without a cockerel. They naturally establish a pecking order to create the alpha female, but the process is far less aggressive if an alpha male is in attendance. My various hens have been happier and more content with a cockerel present - and happier hens lay more eggs; well, allegedly.

Personally, I love cockerels. They're noisy, eat loads of food and don't contribute to the household food supply, unless you rear them deliberately for the pot, but they do protect the hens in a gentlemanly manner; they do find them food and cluck to call them over to it - all of which I find endlessly amusing and very sweet.

If you see a bird that's stands regally and has beautifully groomed feathers shining in a dazzling array of colours - that's a cockerel - overseeing his domain and looking damn fine whilst doing it. They're just so, well, eighteenth century dandy. A beautiful sight to behold and a pain in the ass at 5am in the Summer. Cock-a-ruddy-doodle-do. Anyway, don't say I didn't warn you!

Meet the (mostly) friendly natives

I've currently got six of the lovely little feathery peckers that make me wake at the crack of dawn to let them out and feed them, ready to wreak havoc over the garden and the surrounding field. These are 'proper' free-range chickens. They wander where they want (which is not always the safest of places) but they are happy, well fed, properly exercised and able to operate as a real flock.

Many people can't believe that I allow my chickens to run free, but in two and a half years the only fatalities have been from two aggressive dogs and, so far, the foxes have left them alone. I'm very safety conscious; they have a well defended chicken coop that they return to voluntarily every night and is then locked at every entrance and exit. They're nice and safe and I sleep well knowing that they are, but I don't restrict them during the day. That's their time to be themselves and live a full and varied life; living in a 'run' - no matter how big and expensive - is not an option for my birds. I live in the country and so do they.

Let's start with the biggest first. George is absolutely adorable. He's a buff orpington rooster, of unknown age or origin. He appeared in the garden of a 92 year old man who lives down the road from me. Alva came striding up the road saying,' I've got a cockerel in my garden, what should I do?' After some searching the biggest, orangest, fluffiest cockerel I had ever seen suddenly popped out of a hedge and into my life. It was love at first sight (for me, at least), and after three tries I finally grabbed him and brought him home. He's been head of the flock ever since, though he has a limp that gets worse when he's cold or damp - so I don't know how old he is. One of my favourite activities is to grab him and give him a massive hug. He's so big he completely fills my arms.

Kentucky, or Ken, is a tiny bantam maran hen and very, very broody. She's in this picture with a chick she was determined to hatch out and kept alive during the coldest December in 100 years. The chick is of unknown sex, but I've named her Betsey and she's seen here at four weeks old. She's now 12 weeks. Little Betsey is now the size of her biological Mum, Grace, and growing every day.

Ken is currently brooding again, and on her ninth day of sitting on another two eggs from George and Grace. 

Ava and Grace are Light Sussex hens.

Grace lays an egg every day, even through the winter, whereas Ava is a shite hen who hardly ever lays and when she does her shells are so thin they're almost useless! Mostly she lets a soft-shell egg fall out of her arse when she's roosting at night, so it goes to waste. I'm in two minds about whether to dispatch her to chicken heaven or not.



Barnaby is a bantam (small breed version of a larger breed) Barnevelder, a hardy dutch breed. Up to the age of five months he looked like a hen, then he suddenly started crowing in a strange pterodactyl kind of voice, and within the next couple of weeks his cockerel spurs, neck and tail feathers and massive comb and wattle all grew. Since then he has created himself a position of Lieutenant to George's Colonel, and he does a fabulous job of guarding the flock and fighting off intruders - even my poor cat.

Like all bantams he has a massive personality. My Sussex's and Orpington are calm and collected, perhaps too much so when there are dangers around, but if you have a bantam cockerel in the mix they will always 'do their duty' and protect the group - whether they want him to or not. For that reason Barnaby currently has a place in my flock. No flock needs two cockerels and they rarely co-exist happily, but as George is so big and, frankly, lazy - he seems to be happy to let the little Pretender to the throne run around doing all the work. Chickens ain't daft - they just look that way :)

Anyone who lives in close proximity to chickens will need a cat. Chickens attract many things to their food, mostly other birds or a variety of unwelcome rodent guests. Although chickens can sometimes surprise you by chasing after a mouse and eating it, which is a hell of a sight when they swallow it whole, you really need a cat to cover the majority of the workload. Chickens are just so fickle and can't be relied on to do the job!

This is the Master Mouse-Catcher here at Chicken Cottage, Anya. She's also of unknown age and origin, but she's lived with me for five years and is my closest and most mucky companion. Those fluffy feet pick up a mammoth amount of mud and grime that gets liberally spread all over the house. Country living is pretty but ruddy filthy - especially if your cat likes to wander through the horse paddock on the way home from wherever she's been hunting.