PART ONE HERE

Sunday 30th August – It is pouring with rain here and I have just been down to visit the chickens. Wet chickens look very dismal. They were hoping I would open the gate. So now they are huddled in the coop looking very disappointed with life.

After my saga with Hillary and Roger I was a little shattered and the flock was depleted to 2 remaining hens, Winnie and Dot. However Barb Sutton came to the rescue.

Now Barb is really a legend in her own time. Barb is proprietor of Birchmore Farm at Blind River and is the purveyor of a variety of farm produced goods at the local farmer’s market. After asking her where she bought her chickens from she turned up with 3 lovely ladies in cardboard boxes. Bess, black, beautiful and the leader of the pack. She was named after the black haired daughter in the poem “The Highwayman”. May, (Mayflower) the barred Plymouth Rock and Hettie, small, red and by far the smartest of all the hens. However as the mother of 3 redheads I firmly believe that this is not a coincidence.

So the girls established themselves and I decided that there was room for more. Egg megalomania. I wanted more. Also for some extraordinary reason I love chickens. So I bought 2 baby wyandottes, Mihipeka and Fran, and a very beautiful little black silkie. Now silkie’s have a ridiculous topnot that looks very much like a Russian ladies fur hat, think Dr Zhivago. I was tempted to call her Anna from Anna Karenina but Antionette she became. She was very sweet but definitely the odd one out. I was concerned about how she would fit in with the others who are all large bodied hens. Hens are not into individuality. Obviously this concerned her too as she drowned herself in the pond. I suspect she dipped her head in and the weight of the water in that fabulous topknot was her undoing. I was devastated and feeling that the trials of chicken keeping were just too much much. However the needs of the survivors meant I had to keep going.

I kept Fran and Mihipeka separate for 2 months and integrated them slowly with the others. Carefully lifting them as they roosted into the hen house. The pecking order establishment thing is an unpleasant process.

Daily I let the hens out to free range and one day I came home to find May ripped to bits in the olive grove. She had been killed by a dog and while I don’t have an eye witness account I suspect “Basil” a Jack Russell who sometimes roams to our vineyard. I am not fond of dogs especially small chicken killing dogs.

So now I am down to my fabulous five. Egg production is up. They spend more time penned to protect them but it is roomy. I plan to add some girls soon.

Sunday 6th September: I began this post a week ago and the weather this weekend was fantastic. I have spent the weekend in the garden. Today I picked 2 spears of asparagus the perfect accompaniment to a poached egg. Winter has passed, spring is here and life is good down on the farm.

- Jane.