Image - Grits and Shells
My chickens need grits and shells says Amanda and also the book mentions the same. Where best to go for such a food source but the sea side. Its a bright sunny day and we are only 35mins from the coast. I check out my basket contents before I set off; bucket and spade, adult size of course, a towel, sun tan lotion, i-pod to catch up on my French lessons and a small picnic. I'm all set to go but first I dash over to Hen Pen to say my good bye's and explain that they will have a nice surprise treat latter on today. "Be sure Monsieur Poulet to behave yourself and don't keep giving the hens a hard time", "we don't need chicks yet" I add. He gives me that all important superior look, as if to say "I'm in charge here". I wave my finger at him and say "I mean it Monsieur, just behave or Malcolm will have you in the casserole dish for our supper tonight". He cocks his head back and cock-a-doodle-doo's at me, or rather the neighbouring Cockerel, who responds immediately - and so it goes on back and fourth. I think it quite amusing to watch and listen to them. "Keep it up and you will both have a sore throat". I tear myself away from these time wasters, I don't need delays on this all important mission day "To the Sea Side" but first I dash in doors to pick up my Tilly hat as the sun is very strong already this morning...
The coastline stretches both ways for miles, listening to the surf rolling back and fourth, I was in seventh heaven. Since I was a child my favourite sounds have always been the sea surf and bird songs. There's quite a few people about but who cares, my birds need sand which is very fine here - probably near perfect for their needs. I set too and start shovelling, not realising just how heavy it is. So I end up not getting as much as originally intended "I can always come back for more" I mumble out load. "Not far to come either and a very pleasant drive". Only one wish at this point, that my lovely daughters could be here with me, I just know they would love all of this. I could not get Malcolm to come as he doesn't like sand between his toes (what a wooos) - but would prefer the option of Engine Oil instead. Besides he is on Tractor duty today...
I get back home after a restful day with my 2 heavy loads of sand and loads of shells. I give the sand and shells a thorough wash and set it out in the sun to dry. I wonder "Has anyone else gone this far for their feathered friends" I would be interested to know.
Hi there, Just thought I would add this to the blog, I have kept chickens for many years but never had something like this happen...we think the current drought might have had something to do with it....one morning last week we went to do the chickens as usual,there was deathly silence from the area where they live, my partner said "where are all the chickens then" "perhaps they're still in bed" said I. He lifted the roof of one of the houses. "They're all dead in here" he said in that accusatory way men have when something happens and it's your fault "And in here" "And in here"...They looked as if they'd been gassed. "What did you feed them yesterday? Did the feed bin have a rat in there?" I rushed indoors and Googled 'sudden death in Poultry' but could find nothing that matched the symptons. There was a trio of silver-laced wyandotte bantams left, plus two ex-battery birds and 1 maran. We had to go out on business so had to leave things as they were till we came back. Someone had suggested a stoat, but they bite into the back of the neck. My partner skinned one of the birds (Young, this years hatch, a bantam) but could find nothing, no marks, so it wasn't that. The day progressed and the phone call to DEFRA was looming. Then he skinned another one. There they were, two toothmarks on the back of the neck, under the head. Stoat then. Now what. Total killed = 23 + one sick. That night we went to bed with trepidation, listening out for our dogs barking. Nothing. The next morning partner went off on business to Plymouth, I was dressed and on the Internet, there was a knock at the door. It was a neighbouring farmer. "Did you find out what killed your chickens?" he asked. "Yes" said I, "It was a stoat" at that moment I heard a sound which chilled me to the bottom of my stomach, the noise a chicken makes when it is in pain or scared. "Rreeaeugh!!" Oh my God. I ran down the garden followed by the farmer, picking up an electric fence stake on the way. There was a mink in with the wyandottes, frenziedly attacking them. They were all dead on the floor. I screamed and she (for we found out later it was female) ran into the chicken house, at which my farmer friend put down the pop-hole, thereby trapping her in there. She began scrabbling away at the door, the side of the house, everything, grunting in temper and sounding quite frightening. "Now what we gonna do" he asked, scratching his head. "You got a gun?" I asked "NO". We had one but I had no licence. I asked him to stand guard and hold the fence stake (not sure why) while I got my mobile phone. Everyone I knew with a gun was busy or at work. Eventually the farmer said he would go and get someone so I stood with the fence stake for what seemed to be the longest half-hour of my life. He came back with a man who blasted the thing to death but also blew the side out of my hen house! Happily the 3 bantams were not hurt just playing dead and have survived. So just be careful, your pens not only need to be fox-proof but mink proof too. She got in through the gap between the house and the run, about 2 inches wide. A friend has since seen another couple in the area, my theory is that the streams are dry and they cannot find any fish.
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