We have had some sad chicken times this winter. The Fox has been bumping off one a week. While I sympathise with is hunger, if he isn't going to actually eat the chooks (only teeth-dagger then to death and then run) then I feel a bit enraged at him. My neighbour has lost much of her domestic fowl to him and informed me that she has informed The Local Hunt; who will shortly be on the case and bringing hounds to flush him out and take a gun to his greasy red head. Not sure how I feel about it. Apparently its a dog fox not a bitch, and he's been on the rampage for quite some time (and yes the Hunt is still alive and well, I have seen it dash by many times since we have lived here despite laws made to quell it).
Sigh. The last remaining chook, was The Queen. Felix's favourite. She had her back end bitten off and a cracked egg hung out of her. I screamed and told every one to leave her alone, she must be about to drop dead, but no, she plucked away at her butt, my dh cleaned her up with a rough swipe of his hand and lo and behold within three days she was back to laying again, although looking much like a guinea fowl. For several days she followed me. Without a chook friend left in the world, every time I'd look out of a window, there she'd be, standing on one leg. Every time I move in the house I'd look up to find a lonely looking Queen staring at me through a different window.
On the up we went and bought some new friends for her at the Domestic Wildfowl Trust. Only what do you think? Upon our return we discovered that the Fox had taken The Queen too. Huh! I feel I am rather happy to have the sloppy hounds run through here now.
We had much fun picking and choosing our new brood. Our new four are POL (that's Point Of Lay; about 22-4 odd weeks old) and are an odd looking bunch since everyone wanted a different breed, we ended up with one of each: a Sussex Star (white with black trim), a Calder Ranger (ginger) a Rhode Island Red (black, I know, what a silly name) and a.... erm, well she is buff coloured with a spike on her head and lays blue eggs. So. After two days of being locked in their little house and run (which supposedly is designed to house and keep 6 at one time but to me is nothing more that a holding pen) I let them out proper in the garden today where they went wild with glee and fought each other madly. All is well then. I keep checking on them, suspicious and anxious and have shooed the boys out for most of the day to bounce on their spruced up, spring-cleaned trampoline. If their noise doesn't keep a fox away we're surely doomed.
I have had a couple of fabulously happy garden days. I had forgotten what it's like to spend more time out than in, I raked up about 20 barrow loads of slimy leaves from the grass and put them to compost, I dug over four veg beds, chopped back the fruit canes, swept the area directly outside the house, trimmed up the herb bed and generally neatened up. Esmé helped me take the winter-grimed pegs from the line where we washed them (and her) in the sink.
For my grand finale I split wood. With an axe. This is a big deal for me and I was so satisfied. Remember my last post where I bragged about my wonderful dh who chopped enough wood for us, always every day? Well he didn't. And didn't come home until about 10pm, so if a fire was what we wanted (it was) then it was up to me. I didn't chop my foot off or do my back in so it was a major success. While I chopped, The Beauty made a mess.
Chores done in time, just, to watch the sun fading from view. I LOVE being outside in the garden. The sound of the stream, the scents of the earth and damp and dry coldness, still. I am so grateful for the dry days right now, the mud and snow and slush has cleared and the boys can ride in the driveway (which is bumpy and usually slick) and bounce away and we can all just be outdoors. It's amazing a feeling which I had practically forgotten.
Ok, I've just talked myself into going back outside, off to wake The Beauty :) I need more wood anyway.....
4 comments:
And here =] I feel like a hedgehog just poking its nose out from a heap of leaves. We've been able to get outside much more as well, and it feels like a huge big winter-restricted knot inside me has been untangled by some almost balmy light breezes and rather pleasant sunshine- such a relief.
As for the hens- RIP the Queen. We have a live and let live plicy with foxes, and the rats in the bog keep them occupied, but a few months ago our rooster, two ducks and a few chickens were taken in a week. Now that's just cheeky. We thought we may have to dispose of the culprit, but an overly fast car at the coast road did the job for us.
It's awful, but sometimes it has to be done, especially when the little friends you've lovingly herded into a cosy straw lined house every night are being picked off, with nothing you can do.
One thing we do is, try to find where he's coming in, through your hedge etc, and put some of your hair, from a brush but the fresher the better, into old tights. Tie them up on a low-down twig where he's coming in. Or borrow somebody's Alsatian and walk it round the perimeter of your garden for an hour.
Poor old Queen. Think your ' buff' hen might be a columbine, we have one that looks the same and lays blue eggs. A funny little thing , quite flighty but very friendly and lovely eggs ;-)
Aw, how sad Re: your ladies. Hope the new brood settle in happily and unmolested by the inconsiderate Mr Fox.
Grrr to the fox.
And I love your hen mixture!
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