26 - Chicken Poo

My chief task for today is to have a bit of a clean up in Hen Pen Coup, having 9 chickens can get quite messy much of the time, so regular clean outs makes the task that much easier. Also we are still in the midst of a heat wave, so the earlier I tackle this task the better. Truly not my favourite job but with face mask, wellies and dungarees I am ready to take the job on. "Yuk, yuk, yuk, Oh no, how disgustingly horrid". Yes I had forgotten to put my chicken gloves on and the worst has happened to me. To steady myself whilst bringing the cleaning gear into the coup, I grab hold of the nearest perch, only to squeeze through a huge freshly laid lump of Chick Poo. Yuk, I'm clearly feeling squeamish as the poo has digested itself under all my finger nails. No rags to hand, I lend myself to the grass in Hen Pen garden only to wipe more of the same on the hand. I am very near to throwing up and have voweled my days are numbered as a Country Girl, this life is not for me. Battling to get the upper hand here, I can here Max in the background shouting at Louisa. I can't image why Max should be shouting at her and struggle to get up and out of Hen Pen Garden to see if I can help. Too late, Sugar Lump is on the scene saying "What's going on". "She's not pulling her weight" Max complains. "It was Louisa's responsibility to prune the pear trees, but she is only doing half a job". "Sounds about right to me" says Sugar Lump. Louisa then turns on Sugar Lump frowning and says "Rubbish, That's not fair, I've been working my socks off" and adds, "and what have you been doing Sugar Lump"? "Oh I'm on Tractor duty today - planning the exit of another dead tree". Louisa, starts to argue further with Sugar Lump and then Max steps in and shouts over to me. "Carol Irene, do come and sort your daughter out, she's only doing half a job here". Max has clearly taken the responsibility on as Project Manager and probably pushing it a little too far with Louisa. "If he calls me that name just once more, I know a wobbly will have to be the final straw". I mutter to myself as I walk from Hen Pen with chicken poo on my hand to see if I can sort the problem....

Louisa is clearly upset at being shouted at by Max and Sugar Lump and has since down tools and is in a strop. If it had been the chickens that had been in a two and eight then I would know exactly what to do - yes dish up a bowl of corn. Can't do that with this lot, so I offer a cup of tea, so we can encourage to talk the problem through, this does not go down too well at all....

In my book I did not expect any work to be done on the house or in the garden, especially as they are all here on holiday. Just very pleased they are all here and appreciate that they have all been so willing to get stuck in. Every little helps. I can see that all seem a little stressed and uncomfortable, so I suggest that being as the sun is shining and still quite early in the day. "Lets pack up a picnic and head for the coast, which is only 35 minutes away". They all cheer in agreement - lets do it. Max comes rushing over to me and shakes my hand, "great idea Carol Irene, lets go", he smiles. Max not knowing of course, what covers my hand and I am not in a rush to tell him - at long last I have got my own back on him...A result....

9 - In Prison

Images - The troublesome hens

Madam Poulette once again sneers, growls and has a go at pecking me this morning. I abandon any idea of trying to pick her up, my confidence level has dropped to minus 10. Hen Attitude, continues to just sit in the far corner of Coup 2 and although successful in shooing her out to join the rest, she continues to squawk like mad, running her marathon at the same time, nr 30 miles per hr - I guess. "How stupid can you get", I say, wondering if hens do have variable degrees of behaviour patterns. "Time will tell, no doubt" once again, muttering to myself. I also think, if people in England heard the way I talk to my new found feathered friends, they would probably classify me totally mad and lock me away - ha ha. I reconcile myself to my muttering that "at least its keeping me sane"...

"Bonjour Carrolll - Ca va!! a double twist to the rr's in Carol and a triple twist to the lll's make my name for the first time ever, sound quite cool - even attractive. I make a mental note to encourage Malcolm to speak to me more with a French accent, he would probably get better results from me instead of Oiu, Scrum or FOB (Sorry can't divulge to an audience what this means. (our little secret)). However I will respond to any guess below put on comments!! "Bonjour {N}, {C} - Ca va trei bien" I respond to the previous owners, who now lives close by. They have come over to let me know that they will be away for the weekend and to ask if everything is alright with me. What a prize opportunity, I think to myself. Yes - correct, here comes the million questions buzzing around in my head, well for now perhaps just a couple. "The Poulet" I say and encourage them to walk with me to Hen Pen Garden. Once again in limited French, I make in-roads in making them understand the problems I have with Attitude & Madam Poulette. "Is this normal" I say. "No problem Carrrollll" says smiling {N}". {C} his wife is talking to me about her Grand daughter and I am desperately trying to understand some of the words she is saying from my French Lessons. At the same time I am alarmed that {N} has put his hand on the back of Madam Poulette neck and then picks her up by the scruff and has taken her outside the coup. I follow, as I definitely do not like the way she is squawking. Before I know it, both hens are shut away in coup 2 and the door locked. "Prison" {C} says smiling "no food or water for 3 days", they will then behave themselves....

My jaw drops and for once I am speechless. I slap myself into action and say "no, this is not necessary, they are not bad birds", its just that I need to understand how to handle situations" I stammer. "The hens will be fine in 3 days - no problem" says smiling {N}. "no food or water is best", I am re-assured by {C}. "God, if this is the way the French do it, then I will not be asking them another question". Maybe I am totally naive: I ask myself and this is how you make chickens behave themselves. "Keep an open mind and do your homework later", I tell myself...

Outside Hen Pen garden, I ask {N} another question, "is it normal for grass to be this waist high? is this what chickens like"? "No, No Carrolll" and walks into my barn and comes out with a scythe. The forever smiling {N} walks into Hen Pen garden and starts to cut the long grass down. My turn to say "No, No {N}, I was not asking you to cut the grass, I can do that, I was just asking the question". We are at the stage when anything and everything said is lost. I am panic stricken and can't think straight for fear of my two lovely hens, which are squawking like mad in coup 2...

We say our goodbye's and I go in-doors for a wine and start to search the Internet for Chicken Prison. I find nothing and I listen outside for the birds but they have quietened down, thankfully...

I struggle like mad coming to terms with this situation and I am definitely not happy. I text Sugar Plum my husband and he just comes back with "not good" and no solution. I do not sleep all night, this cannot be right, I will have to let them out. First thing in the morning, I phone A & B the couple that are moving here in a couple of days and poor my heart out about the events of yesterday. No hesitation from them, "let them out", "chickens get it very quickly but with food and water" they say...I let Madam Poulette and Attitude out of coup 2 and they are fine but just a little bewildered and happy to receive a huge breakfast. The hens were only isolated for less than a day but Madam Poulette has stopped brooding and Attitude hen has now joins in with the gang.

3. Getting to grips with reality

Image - Heather & Feather

I had already established that the four hens are egg layers and not for eating but so far nothing. I read up in my poultry book the whys and wherefore's but I do not see any obvious answers. They all look healthy enough to me, eating the daily corn and drinking plenty of water. However, there are a couple of things that I am not sure about though; one is that the two coups do not look very clean. Secondly should the grass really be waist high? I jot these notes down in my mental note pad for further research...

I have always wanted to be a Country Girl, my true self would lean in that direction, being a good Brownie and Girl Guide but the reality and truth of the situation now is that I am a 95% townie. More and more I am realising I know next to nothing, in at the deep end and too afraid even to touch the birds. No!! I don't think they are going to bite my arm off, just a tad afraid of being pecked to death!! I observe that Madam Poulet is sitting in the same and only nest box again, "this can't be right", I mutter softly. I talk softly to her, coaxing her to trust me "Uppy Duppy madam, time for walkies" and gently stroke her back. She squawks loudly and Yes, you guessed it - near bites my arm off. I jump back in total alarm, stumbling over the corn feeder, dust flies up from the ground. I was in hell and could not escape quickly enough. Malcolm takes one look at me as I near fall through my entrance into the kitchen "What's up darling, you look a bit frazzled", "Oh nothing much Dear Heart, just trying to be a 100% Country girl"...