Fowl Not Foul - September 2000

Alkacell, having fully recovered from her broken leg, is now having to deal with her right wing, which she broke last month. She is coping extremely well, and the bandage is not preventing her from enjoying life, as the picture below of Alkacell sunbathing illustrates:-

Hens pick the strangest places sometimes, and Alkacell has chosen to sunbathe on a plastic carrier bag filled with wood shavings (above).

Dookie the Speckled Sussex hen had decided that she no longer wanted to be broody, even after much encouragement. So on 1st September I let her out of the Ark to be in the garden with the rest of the flock. But Dookie's non-compliance had left me with.12 fertile eggs and nothing to incubate them with! After many tries, we just couldn't get the home-made incubator to calibrate. Meanwhile, I couldn't find Dookie at fowl bedtime, though I searched and searched for her. I found her waiting for me in the garden on the following morning. I promptly caught her and clipped her wing in the hope that this would prevent further escape.

On 2nd September I was on duty at the Stroud LETS stall at the local Farmers' Market. I asked around the various farmers, to see if any had a broody hen or incubator they would be prepared to lend me. Luckily one did, so we drove out to collect her on the following evening, after putting the fowl to bed. Again, I couldn't find Dookie anywhere. On arrival at the farm, we were led to a large chicken-roosting shed, where the farmer gently extracted an extremely broody hen from her nestbox while she protested loudly. We put her in a cardboard box and took her home. There I placed 12 eggs under her, to get her used to having eggs under her. This wasn't easy, as she fluffed herself out and pecked at me each time I put my hand near her. As soon as she noticed that I'd placed an egg next to her, she stared at it briefly but intently, and carefully rolled it underneath her body with her beak. I'd exchange these eggs for the fertile dozen as soon as the broody was comfortably installed in her private coop in the shed on the next morning.

So in the morning I went to look for Dookie, but she was nowhere to be seen. Next I got on with building the broody cage in the shed, ensuring that it was private and secure. As well as providing a dark and quiet environment for the borrowed broody, I had to ensure her security because she was a Silver Sussex, a rare breed which is well sought after. It had been very kind of the farmer to lend her to us, and I wanted to make sure that she was returned to him in one piece! The broody semed to like her new coop, and took to the eggs as soon as I placed them near her, gathering them underneath her and shuffling them into a comfortable position to sit on.

During that afternoon, Dookie turned up! I discovered her in the garden. I don't know how she got back, but I was pleased to see her. I made sure to lock her up in the hen house with the others that night, even if it did mean putting Dookie to bed a little earlier than the others.

Left: Dookie the Speckled Sussex, with White Tara the Light Sussex and Attilla the Hen the Welsummer in the background.

Below left and right (from left to right):- Dookie the Speckled Sussex, Flathead the Ancona, and Ashley the Exchequer Leghorn all enjoying themselves immensely in a communal dustbath. Each bird continued dustbathing for another twenty minutes. They lost themselves so much that I was able to sit with them and join in by sprinkling dust carefully over their feathers while they bathed.

Again, at fowl bedtime, Dookie was nowhere to be seen. I hoped that she would turn up on the following day, but unfortunately she didn't. I searched and searched for her, but found nothing. She never returned, and we supposed that she had been found and caught by the local badgers.

Alkacell continued to recover well from her broken wing, and clearly enjoyed her daily trips out into the garden. However, she still preferred to be in the house most of the time. One day she got fed up of being in the garden, found that she could push her way though a small gap between the gatepost and the wall, and went on an adventure. It was a while before I noticed that she had gone, but as soon as I did, I went to search for her. I looked absolutely everywhere for her in the garden but to no avail, and eventually found Alkacell sitting calmly and comfortably on the back doorstep, waiting for me to let her back into the house. I was impressed by this, as our back garden is not directly attached to the house, and there is a short walk along a passageway, up some steps and along a path before the garden is reached. Alkacell had obviously learnt these directions and the colour of the back door for herself, and had applied this knowledge of her own accord.

Below: The Silver Sussex taking a break from incubation to eat, drink and defaecate.

On Thursday 7th I left Alkacell unattended in the garden for half an hour, while I popped down the road to the shops with a friend. When we returned, we heard a commotion in the back garden...Alkacell was squealing with distress, and we rushed to investigate as quickly as we could. We found that Alkacell had got her bandage caught on the hen shelter, and the geese were attacking her ..... Pseudo-Swan the gander was viciously pecking and stabbing at her back, while Sian the goose stood guard and shouted encouragement to him. As soon as the geese noticed us they ran away, and I shut them in their house for a couple of hours as punishment for attacking the poor defenceless chicken. Carefully, we freed Alkacell and examined her. She appeared very pleased to see us, making eye contact and clucking softly to us, and pushing her body against my legs. The geese had completely plucked the poor bird's back and shoulders, and had partly removed the dressing holding her broken wing in place. Alkacell's back was bruised, swollen, raw and weeping, and was even bleeding in some places where the tough beak of the gander had broken the hen's skin. Her face was swollen and cut, too. We brought the poor unfortunate chicken into the house, where I carefully removed her bandage and cleaned her wounds. I also gave her an Arnica tablet to help her cope with the shock of the attack of the geese.

Alkacell's back was so sore that it was difficult to bandage her wing back in place without the bandage causing her pain. It was difficult to know what to do, as ideally Alkacell's back should be left open to the air to heal as much as possible, but it was equally (if not more) important to immobilise the wing.

In the end, the safest dressing for Alkacell was a thick layer of soft lint to protect her back, and an old tubular bandage with holes cut into it so that the hen's legs and good wing could go through.

On the following day, Alkacell looked much better.

Her wounds had scabbed over, and her back did not look as red and raw as it had yesterday.

Left: Alkacell's swollen and partially bald head.

On the morning of Saturday 9th, we awoke to find Alkacell sitting on the settee in the living room.

She had obviously realised that it was warmer and more comfortable in the living room than it was in the kitchen on her special towel, where she was supposed to sleep.

She had pushed the living room door open and clambered onto the settee, settling herself down on the T.V. guide which we had left right in the middle of the settee.

The T.V. remote control was lying next to her, and we wouldn't have been surprised if Alkacell had managed to turn on the T.V. by pecking at the buttons !

When the little hen realised that I was about to take a photo of her, she stood up.

Right: Alkacell making herself at home !

Alkacell still needed to go outside during the day for at least a few hours, so that she could recieve enough sunlight on her skin to enable her to synthesise Vitamin D3, which would then bind with the calcium and phosphorus in the supplements I was giving her to help her broken bones heal more rapidly and strongly.

I constructed a special run for her in the front garden.

Needless to say, I made sure not to leave Alkacell alone, and I kept her well away from the back garden and the geese.

On the evening of Saturday 9th September we were relaxing with friends, when suddenly, at midnight, we recieved a telephone call from Miranda, the neighbour whose land is over the back fence of our garden, behind the chicken house. She could hear a commotion, and was sure that something was attacking the chickens. Had the badger returned? We (all four of us!) rushed outside into the garden with a torch and heard faint chicken noises. We spotted Duracell and Little Wing near the shed, alive- they had obvously been terrified and simply blundered away from their attacker/s as fast as they possibly could. 9-Volt was also discovered alive further up the garden. Luckily the three brave birds were not badly injured. There were many red feathers strewn around, and I suspected the worst for the rest of the flock. I decided to check the henhouse to see exactly what damage had been done, and to count the chickens remaining. The birds which had stayed in the henhouse were terrified. Though I tried to reassure them as much as I could with the sound of my voice, the poor birds leapt screeching into the air if they were touched. We managed to count all except two. After closing the henhouse, and shutting the escaped birds 9-Volt, Little Wing and Duracell in the shed, we went to search for signs of the mising hens. We found a trail of feathers leading across next-door's garden, leading to the wild patch of woodland beyond. We had obviously disturbed the predator, as it had abandoned a dead hen before pushing itself under the fence. It had even left a large tuft of hair on the wire as evidence - the predator was a badger, just as we had suspected. We identified the dead bird as Ever-Ready. Unfortunately, we couldn't find the other missing hen, Professor Hawking, and decided that the badger must have taken her. Upset and shocked, we brought 9-Volt, Duracell and Little Wing into the house to inspect them further. Miraculously, they were unscathed. Relieved, we put them into the shed for the night.

On Sunday morning we were delighted to find Professor Hawking in the back garden! She was frightened, but unharmed. The rest of the flock were extremely nervous and reluctant to exit their house though the door - they probably thought the badger would still be waiting for them outside. Unsurprisingly, they were also rather wary of entering their house at chicken's bedtime. Duracell decided to sleep out for the next three nights, perching herself on the top of an old chipmunk cage near the shed. Even though I retrieved her every night at chickens' bedtime and put her in a safe place, she still insisted on trying to sleep outside. The badger attack had obviously caused her a lot of psychological trauma.

On 14th September, the Silver Sussex abandoned the eggs she had been incubating. Wether she had been disturbed by Duracell's attempts to sleep in the shed recently, or if she had simply got bored of being broody, I don't know. I went into the shed on the morning of 14th to find the hen sitting next to the door of her cage, as far away from the eggs as she could possibly get. When I opened the cage to investigate, the Sussex squawked loudly, barged her way past me, and flew over the head of my friend who was guarding the shed door! She then continued up the garden as fast as she could, clucking loudly. I checked the eggs, and was dismayed to discover that they felt cold. Chances were that the embryoes had died inside the eggshells during the time the hen had been off the nest - I didn't know exactly how long this had been, so I decided to take the chance that some of the developing chicks may have survived. We managed to catch the naughty Silver Sussex by herding her back into the shed. I then barricaded her into her nest so that she had no choice but to sit on the eggs and keep them warm. With the hen safely installed on the eggs for the time being, I made enquiries with everyone I could think of, to see if anyone had another broody hen or incubator we could borrow. Unfortunately, the situation was further compounded by the fact that there was a petrol crisis going on in England at the same time - the farmers and lorry drivers of the whole country had become digruntled with the government because of the continual rise in petrol prices. They were protesting by stopping petrol deliveries and blockading distribution depots. This resulted in petrol supplies dropping dramatically as the general public panicked, and bought as much petrol as it possibly could. Within a few days, all the local petrol stations ran dry, and the Army had to be called in to calm the situation and distribute emergency supplies.

Luckily, by an amazing series of co-incidences, we found an old culture oven (which had been used as an incubator before with success) which a local lady was able to borrow from her neighbour down the road. When we went to collect the oven, it wouldn't fit in the car, and the lady was kind enough to arrange transport to bring it over to us. I set about calibrating the oven as soon as we got it into the outhouse - but calibration to the exact humidity and temperature required for hen eggs proved difficult, and took almost 3 days. During the calibration process I trapped the Silver Sussex hen in a small space with the dozen valuable eggs she was supposed to be incubating, and food and water. She had no choice but to sit on the eggs.

As soon as the incubator had calibrated, little Roadkill became fiercely broody. Exasperated, I decided to put the eggs under her rather than use the incubator, because even though I had spent a long time getting the tempetrature and humidity right in the oven, the best possible mother for eggs is a natural one...the broody hen. Roadkill took to the eggs immediately, and to my surprise she managed to cover them all quite comfortably, even though she is a small half-bantam hen. The eggs would be due to hatch on Sunday 24th September. Immediately before I gave the eggs to Roadkill, I candled them. I couldn't see much, but most of the eggs looked translucent and had large air spaces. I was sure that they were all dead, but couldn't face throwing them away before they had undergone the full period of incubation. So, to avoid complete disappointment, I decided to order another dozen eggs to put in the ready-calibrated culture oven. Unfortunately, the season for buying fertile eggs had just ended, as the fertility of eggs reduces as Autumn sets in, and the hatchery doesn't like to take the risk of selling eggs which might not be fertile. But all was not lost, as day-old chicks were still available, so I went ahead and ordered 2 barnevelders, 2 marans, 2 silver campines, and 4 cream legbars (sexed - 2 male, 2 female). The chicks would arrive on the same day the eggs were due to hatch.

Alkacell continued to recover well from being plucked by the geese, and new feathers had started to grow on her back. Though this of course was excellent news, it also caused immense difficulty with her bandage. The new feathers coming through were extremely sensitive, and contact with the developing feathers and the bandage was painful and uncomfortable for the poor hen. Unsure how to deal with the situation, I called the Vet for advice. He suggested that I should bring Alkacell to see him, so, on 20th September I took her to the Vet. I also took Attilla the Hen the Welsummer, as she had been refusing to come out of the henhouse for the past few days. Every morning the rest of the flock would exit as usual, but Attilla would just sit quietly on the top perch. I was concerned about her, as I'd never seen this kind of behaviour before. Her comb, face and wattles also looked pale. The Vet took a quick look at Alkacell, and announced that her wing had properly healed! I was very relieved and delighted, as this meant that Alkacell did not have to wear her bandage any more, and she could grow her new feathers comfortably and without disturbance.

Now it was Attilla's turn. Ever since the Welsummer had started laying eggs, she had also started making a wierd squawking sound intermittently. She would stretch her neck out as a crowing cockerel would, and make the most annoying horrible drawn out noise I have ever heard a chicken make. She happened to do it a few times in the consulting room, and when I asked the Vet if this was normal, he said No! He explained that because chickens are very primitive species, their balance of male and female hormones can fluctuate, usually if there is a tumour on the gonads. This can lead to former cockerels laying eggs and hatching out chicks, and former hens beginning to crow and even fathering chicks!! Although this doesn't happen often, it can happen to varying degrees. The Vet examined Attilla internally, announcing that her reproductive organs seemed normal, and could find no egg or feaces inside her. As for her lethargy and refusal to leave the henhouse, that definitely meant that something was wrong, but as is usually the case with illness in birds, to diagnose correctly he would need samples. He instructed me to bring in a faecal sample from Attilla as soon as possible, to check her for worm infestation. He also gave her a worm treatment anyway, just to be on the safe side.

A few days later Attilla's sample revealed that she was infested with all sorts of different types of internal worm. I started the whole of the flock on a 7-day course of worming, and was instructed to return a pooled flock feaces sample to the Vets for analysis. I also wanted to ensure that the flock was entirely worm free before introducing them to their new land.

On Sunday 24th September none of the eggs which Roadkill had been incubating hatched. I decided to leave them until the next day, just to make sure.

At about 11.00am, a delivery man brought a box of chirping chicks to us. We signed for them, and opened the box to find eleven two-day-old chicks of varying colours. Comparing the delivery note to the little chicks, we worked out that the two black chicks were Marans, the two brown were Barnevelders, the two striped were Cream Legbar pullets, the two fawny beige ones were Cream Legbar cockerels, and the rotund yellow one a Golden Campine. The two remaining chicks were pale cream coloured, spotted and splashed with varying shades of rich brown and chestnut - two Silver Campines, one of which had been given to us free by Sue, the kind lady at the Wernlas Collection.

While our friend photographed the chicks, I set up a box for them to live in. We placed the chicks in their new home, and quickly they were fast asleep under their heatlamp.

Roadkill's eggs did not hatch, so I discarded them on the compost heap. I broke each one to check the contents, but I couln't see any half-developed eggs. I had to break the eggs using a long pole, as they smelt so badly I could not bear to get near them.

Roadkill remained broody, even though I had taken her eggs away. I decided to try putting a chick underneath her, to see if she would foster them for us. I picked the two black Maran chicks to try first, my reasoning being that Roadkill might be more likely to accept chicks which were the same colour as her. I hid the first chick in my hand, and quickly but carefully slipped it under Roadkill's wing. The chick buried itself amongst Roadkill's warm feathers and sat still. Roadkill stared at her wing, then shuffled slightly and sat still - had she accepted the chick? Carefully I placed the other Maran chick under Roadkill's wing - but the chick emerged again, and stood next to Roadkill, who stared down at the chick intently for the next few seconds. Suddenly she swore, raised her hackles and pecked at the little chick. She obviously wasn't going to foster them, and it seemed more likely that she would eat them! Immediately I took both chicks away from Roadkill before she could hurt them, and put them back with the others.

I was worried that the little chicks would not survive their first night - had I set up their box correctly? Did they have everything they needed? Of course, on the following morning I found that the chicks had survived, and they soon began to grow quickly. I weighed them regularly, noting the length of their tail feathers and wing primaries at the same time. As the days went by, the chicks developed well. The quickly learnt to scratch amongst their bedding, and as soon as their wing feathers started growing, they began to start launching themselves across their box, flapping wildly. Within a few days they could fly right out of the box, some perching on the edge and calmly surveying the outside world, while others missed the edge completely, hurling themselves across the room to crash-land on the carpeted floor. None of them hurt themselves, and I prevented their escapades by covering the top of the box with wire netting.