Free Rangin'

So we’ve had Maude and Mildred for a month now and I have finally plucked up the courage to let them free range around the garden. Despite my best attempts at fencing the boyf has  persuaded me that with a bit of supervision the girls would be fine wandering around- unfenced.

The girls with their security guard... in his PJ's...

We had a bit of a shaky start, which mainly involved me near tears shrieking at the boyf that they were going to run away or get stolen by a fox despite the fact that I was a mere foot away... I’m such an over protective chook mama, I think he has definitely been put off the idea of ever having human babies with me. But with a lot of persuasion, I have begun to feel more comfortable about loosening the apron strings. The girls know exactly where to go when the door of the run is open and leg it straight into my pa’s “woodland flowerbed” which unfortunately for him contains some expensive plants but also a rockery and lots of bark chippings which the girls adore.

It’s funny how their personalities change when they’re out scratching about, Mildred who was our first Houdini and I always thought, the naughty one, won’t go far from me and the snack box and comes straight to me when she’s called. Maude on the other hand is a bit of a nightmare! I thought she was the quiet, less dominant one but once she gets a sniff off a worm she’s gone! The boyf had to retrieve her from underneath next doors hedge- luckily some ancient chicken wire prevented her from getting too far!

One last glimpse of Maude's bottom as she disapears off into the bushes...

I’m so glad I have relaxed enough to let them out, it’s no good being over protective if they don’t get to have a little fun. They absolutely love digging and scratching and running about (who knew they could run so fast!?) and the little noises of content when they find a beetle or a caterpillar are so sweet! I just wish I had more time to play with them instead of this work lark...

Mildred, my blonde bombshell and total mamas girl...



It's Polyculture...but not as we know it...

I managed to tear myself away from staring like a loon at Mildred and Maude and go and visit my recently neglected allotment. I haven’t been in three days, this is most unlike me.

It’s so close to being finished it’s almost painful.  After the Boyf found some wood left over from a fencing job he set about knocking me up four new raised beds! He really is very handy... and now I have loads of space for my little seedlings which are creeping up in the greenhouse and will soon be wanting out...

However, something is amiss. We haven’t planted much out yet but my strawberry patch is one area I am particularly proud of. After growing the little babas myself from mummy strawberry at home, they’ve managed to survive all winter on our barren plot. The barren plot which now seems to be not so barren...Potatoes have taken over. They’re popping their heads out all over my strawberry patch! The boyf is more upset that they are ruining the lines of his onions and the edges of his wood chipped paths but the strawberries have really got me!

Do I chop them down and restore order. Or do I embrace my stowaway freebies and make sure I dig them all up them all next time? It seems that even though they left the plot littered with tonnes of concrete my predecessors liked a potato plant or two!

In which I become a Chicken mama...

 It has been three days. Three long, glorious, sun soaked summer days since my girls arrived. I have emerged from my love haze only out of necessity, the necessity for me to go to the “office job” and move paper. I took a day off to help them settle in but I can see that it’s me who has to settle. I’ve been a wreck. Every snuffle, every squeak and I’m there, laptop to hand googling symptoms and clogging up poultry forums. I’ve been waking up at the crack of dawn, ears alert waiting to see if they’re going to be early risers, noisy morning birds or sleep right through. Do they like broccoli? Bread? Grapes? Why won’t they eat their worming medicine? Do they need grit yet? Are they allergic to hay? But it has been lovely...

Alf with his new girls...

On Saturday my pa and I drove to Southmead Poultry in Leatherhead- with firm assertions that we were “only looking- not buying”. Of course we left an hour later with a green Eglu Go and two beautiful hens, both hybrid ginger girls but one blonde and one a red head,(plus all their accessories, layers pellets, corn snacks, oyster shell, worming liquid, flea powder, dust free hay...these girls are high maintenance!)  

Normally the Eglu would be no problem. The boyf loves a flat pack, he can knock up an ikea shelving unit in under half an hour- forget the instructions. Unfortunately he was at work so the job fell to me and my ma. Sitting on the lawn, hundreds of pieces of green plastic Eglu around us and two clearly bored hens in a cardboard box we feared the worst, the hens would have to live in their box forever, but we persevered and after an hour, two broken nails, a fair amount of swearing and a lot of girl power, we were done.

The mum builds...

We released the hens into their run, much to the delight of Alf the dog. They celebrated by pooping, a lot.  All seemed to have gone to plan, the chickens were happy, the eglu was a trifle, the dog perplexed, I congratulated myself on being a fine poultry keeper.

Alf the dog on patrol....

Feeling confident I left the girls alone to settle in for an hour, on my return I foolishly thought they might like to have a cuddle. I opened the hatch, put my arm in and in slow motion, the blonde escaped. It was my fault, I frightened her with my elbow but she was out. Looking at me. With comedy style I lunged, she leapt and she was out of sight. Under the hedge and into next doors garden. My mother, at 49 years old was over the wall before I could say “fox food” herding blondie back.

Once she was back in the garden my troubles were far from over, as she led me, Benny Hill style round and round the Eglu, the mother shouting over the hedge and the red head sitting in the water bowl watching (clearly laughing at me!). I just couldn’t catch her. Eventually I threw my cardigan over her and with a swift and stealthy movement grabbed her. Cardigan removed she cuddled up to me quite happily murmuring away like butter wouldn’t melt.

Characters now firmly established we could name them. The escape artist, also the noisiest and peckiest of the pair is Mildred and her sidekick- who is a little chubby and much more reserved- is Maude. (Think back to The Worst Witch books and you’ll get it.)

Once order was restored I set out on a vigorous few days a chicken training. Mildred and Maude now know the sound of my voice and more importantly the sound of the treat box and will run to the hatch in the run  to greedily nibble it out of my hand, they’ll even stick their necks out to try and reach the pot! I am hoping this will bode well when they are allowed out (after the boyf has chicken proofed the hedges!) and they will come charging back from whatever bit of the garden they are currently destroying.

In the 3 days I’ve had them, I’ve learnt a lot. Here’s a run down-

·         Chickens poo. A lot. Like tonnes. This is good for my compost but not so good for the lawn.

·         They make funny little noises all the time. Well naughty blonde Mildred does anyway.

·         They’re not scared of the dog. He is obsessed with them. They charge at him periodically.

·         They know when it’s bed time. This made me a very proud chicken mama on their first night....

Please feel free to leave comments admiring the beauty of my new girls...

Maude (the red head) and Mildred (the blonde)