Several weeks ago, Gibbo suspected that one of his crele wyandottes had been taken by a hawk. No biggie. Then one day during the week, when I was doing his chooks, she came shooting out from the garden undergrowth, squarking and clucking and putting on quite a turn. Obviously she wasn't stolen by a hawk - she had laid a clutch of eggs and then gone clucky on them. She came out from the bushes to find some food then hightailed it back under and I didn't see her again.
Until this morning.
There she was, sitting proudly puffed with four little legs showing through her breast feathers; further to her left were five fluffy little chicks. Further along again was Poofy. And Coco. And Chloe. And there was me. Can you see where this story is headed?
I surveyed the situation. I thought, "I'm only going to get one go at this". Did I mention I had ten eggs in my pocket (collected from Gibbo's wyandotte and pekin show stock). I'll leave their fate 'til later.
I lunged at the chook and managed to grab her on the second attempt. I also grabbed the two chickens that were under her. They were so stunned they couldn't run away. All hell broke loose. Chaos ensued. The other five chickens scattered. I staggered on my knees after them, trying to hang onto what was in my hands and grabbing at the escapees at the same time. The chook struggled and threatened to squash the two babies I held - I dropped her - and that was the last time I touched a feather on her stupid little head. I managed to pick up three more of the chickens so now I had five...but I was sure I'd counted seven at the start. Coco appeared from under an elevated chook pen, looking guilty, tail between her legs. "Did you eat anything lately?", I yelled at her. She slunk off. I put the five in a feed bin for safekeeping, then in a water dish (empty).
I went back for one last recon and found the hen sitting quietly in the garden. Strange. I tried to catch her, there was a flurry of wings and feathers and feet - and TWO CHICKENS fell out from underneath her. Coco hadn't eaten them after all! The mother had somehow found and regathered them to her. I caught one of them then went crashing through the branches after the other and slid through the fence to grab him. Victory! I had all SEVEN chickens now. I suddenly remembered all those eggs in my coat pockets and I went to put them in the feed bin for safe-keeping; "that's funny, I thought I had more than that".......then I found four of them on the ground at the fence where I'd shimmied through......three had crush wounds and the other was ok. Poofy had a little mid-morning omelette.
It occurred to me at this stage that I am getting too old for this kind of sh*t. I wondered how I would catch the mother hen who by now was hysterical. I had no chance. Then I figured if I put the chicks in the water container inside another chook pen and left the door open, the mother might go in and I'd be able to capture her. So I did that, then went over the other side of the tennis court where the more civilised (mine) poultry live so they could at least get fed today. After all the goings on on the eastern side I was way behind in my chores. I wasn't in the mood for any frivolity though; the Barnie that had found her way into the white silkies was quickly despatched home and the batch of unruly teenagers (aren't they all) were threatened if they tried to escape. "If you lot escape you'll all be fox bait and right now, I don't care". You may have picked up a pattern here where I have been conversing with the animals. It comes from living on your own.
After feeding my flock I ventured back east and snuck around the corner of the open-door pen.....only to discover....THE DAMN CAT WAS IN THERE, STARING INTENTLY INTO THE WATER DISH. She looked up at me with big round eyes. "Whoa Momma, what are these? They don't look like mice but they sure look good?". I stared back, horrified. I fully expected to look into the dish and see maybe one or two chickens left........but they were all there! I scooped her up and cuddled her and praised her for being such a good girl for not eating ANY of the chickens. I wonder how much longer she could have resisted temptation though?
I carried her back over my side to finish off the watering and take some exciting photos of what was growing beneath the ground (subject of another post).
One last check back east proved that this particular chook has a very tiny brain. There were her seven chickens, cheeping very loudly....and she was still in the undergrowth, no doubt shell shocked. I bet she didn't expect a morning like this when she hatched those seven eggs. Poofy had a close look. Several salivatingly close looks actually.
I took them all into the garage and put them in the bathtub base that we use for newborns. I also added the seven chicks that were born in the incubator over the last few days. So now there's fourteen little chickens in the bathtub, one big happy family.
By the end of it all I was exhausted.....and over chooks for today.
Yes Megan, I did apologise to Coco for accusing her of eating two of the chicks. It's just that previous behaviours of hers led me to suspect her right from the start!
And guess who watched all this from a front row seat.......................she must have thought, "There's that crazy woman again. I hope some of the other hoomans come home soon. Hey Maaaare...calm down eh".
1 comment:
HOLY SHIT! I may have just wee'd myself a little bit!! People in the reception room of the hostel in Prague must think there is something wrong with me! Wake up so I can skype you!!!!!!!!!!
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