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....

25 - Brooding Madam Poulette

Having had an in depth conversation with Emily, we have now decided to allow Madam Poulette the privilege of having chicks of her own. Emily is really taken with the chickens and thinks it a little unfair in denying Madam Poulet the pleasure of raising her own chicks. I agree with Emily but had put myself on hold because I still have not been able to pick up a chicken. Since we moved into the house, Madam Poulette has done little else other than to brood, so hopefully this will sort the problem out. Today, she has 3 eggs in her nest, which we have carefully marked each with an X in pencil. There is a little dilemma here due to the fact that all the hens are wanting to lay their eggs in the same nesting box, so identifying Madam Poulette's eggs is important, we hope that we have chosen correctly...

"So I am going to be a Dad again, ah Chicken Maid Emily". Emily is simply amazed that Monsieur Poulet is talking directly to her. "Did you hear that", Emily says looking at me. "Yes but do not take too much notice of him as he can be extremely lippy and cocky besides.". I continue. "Talk to him if you wish but I am going to have a word with Sugar Plum about putting a couple more nesting boxes up". I leave Emily crouching down, having a word with Monsieur Poulet about his forthcoming offspring. I can see that he is taking the opportunity to show off as he is spreading his colourful wings and pointing out the many colours that adorn his coat...

Sugar Plum is in agreement about the necessity of building two more nesting boxes and will work on it once he has completed a couple of tractor jobs with Max. A results excellent, I am happy, so many jobs getting done this week is remarkable. In the short time that Louisa, Emily and Max have been here, so much has been achieved on the land that it is being transformed daily. We now have in place 3 superb rockeries. The old washing line pulled down. The biggest bonfire ever. The development of a Veggie Patch, Pear tree pruning, Hen Pen Garden grass cut back and the fencing that Monsieur is not happy with....

"He's a miserable old ungrateful chicken" says Emily as she comes into the Kitchen, frowning. "You don't say", I did warn you." "He was having a go at me over that fencing we put up yesterday and could we re-arrange it so that it looks Posh". "He even suggested that we take it down completely so that Madam Attitude could have a nesting place for her chicks". Interested I ask Emily "How did you respond"? "Well, I was tempted to kick him up the parsons nose but decided against it and just called him a miserable old git and turned my back on him and went on to have a chat with the youngsters instead", "he did not like that one little bit, it brought a jealous rage on and he cock-a-doodle-doo until he was blue in the face"....

21 - Tug-of-War

Its breakfast time and I take to my 9 little lovelies 2 bowls of petite dejeuner. I'm in a bit of a hurry as I was up late and behind with my plans for an early trip to the market. Having placed the bowls on the ground I then check the coup for eggs. "Ah ha, a result" I say and "well done girls", we have 3 eggs. My plans are on today, in attempting to impress Sugar Lump by making him a special Creme Brulee supper pudding - I am happy. Having come out of the coup, I notice Madam Heather downing a very long length of ham rind "Oh no", I shout out. Realising immediately that I had dished their food up and forgotten to cut the ham rind into small pieces...

I can see that Madam Heather is struggling to down the rind in one lump, so I go over to aid her digestive passage. I manage to grab hold of the end and give it a gentle pull, coaxing the rind back up her throat. To my astonishment Madam Heather, then gives a more superior tug and swallows a bit more. "This cannot be right" I say to Heather. "Let it go and I will chop it up into small pieces - that way we can avoid you choking to death". A gurgling comes from the back of her throat and I am worried that this is her demise. My dear sweet Madam Heather, who is instantly forgiven for pecking at the youngsters, is going to die all because I overlooked the obvious. "What will Sugar Lump think of me". I cannot give up, I am still holding the rind as we work a Tug-of-war. The length of rind appears to be twice as long now, stretchy much like an elastic band. I am getting impatient and want the result of keeping my bird alive and about to give up when a piercing, screeching Monsieur Poulet is shouting in my ear. "Get of my land and leave my women along, Chicken Maid" he cock-a-doodle-doo's arrogantly. The noise has stunned both of us and we both spring back in surprise as I let go of the rind and find myself in a sitting position. The tug-of-war is over as the rind pings back to Madam Heather and to my astonishment winds itself round her beak. Monsieur Poulet continues shouting his mouth off and then notices Madam Heather unable to speak. He goes over to her and unwinds the rind, whispering sweet nothings to her at the same time. With one almighty pull, succeeds in retrieving the rind in one piece and to my astonishment gobbles the rind up at speed. Near speechless I say "I hope you choke on it, that was a real mean thing to do" and attempt to get up and out of Hen Pen garden. As I stand, the 3 eggs collected had smashed in my dungarees pocket and now dripping disgustingly down my leg into my wellington boots, I was in hell once again... Creme Brulee is put on hold and so is my trip to market...

15 - The Young Ones

Image - The four younsters

Its a long drive home and I wish I had left my face mask on, the smell from the four youngsters is putrid. The windows are open and I successfully rummage for tissues to hold to my mouth to ease up on the gagging. With difficulty I attempt to talk to the anxious girls that are making quite a racket in the back of the car "not long now girls, soon be home and tucked up in your new home Hen Pen". I jam on the brakes, its an emergency the gagging has got the better of me and I wonder have I got Bird Flu or some other nasty disease. 10 minutes later after a drink of water and a few deep breaths of fresh air, I am on my way again and at speed with the fan full blast on in my face. Reconciling my doubtful purchase with the fact that I shall be giving the hens a good life with much more freedom and excellent Poulet cuisine, makes me feel better about the situation...and wondering what Sugar Plum will think of today's purchase.

With wheelbarrow to hand I ease the box out of the back of the car, "no more tilting up for my girls" I mutter, I want happy hens. I wheel the load into Hen Pen, put the box on the ground and untie the string. The youngsters stay put huddled up together not wanting to move. "Uppy Duppy you are safe here, come on girls" I say encouragingly...

The five original chickens are looking on. Monsieur Poulet has his hands on his hips giving me that all important look again. "No good looking at me like that Monsieur, it doesn't impress me none, these chicks are here to stay". Madam Poulette, gives me that sideways glance and fluffs up her skirt and sidles up to Monsieur. Heather, Feather and Attitude are cautiously looking on at a distance and checking out their manicure and smoothing down their feathers. "I truly expect you five to set an example here and get on nicely with these youngsters" I say, hoping.

The youngsters slowly get out of the box, they are very frightened and instantly huddle together and stay like that for several hours. I introduce them to baby mash and fresh water, which they tuck into immediately and later in the evening I settle them in the coup for a well deserved good night sleep...Now for a chat Sugar Plum...

14 - Increasing the Girls

I am now at the stage where I am feeling a little more comfortable with the residence of Hen Pen and don't fear so much that they will peck me to death. Picking the chickens up is still something that I cannot get to grips with, so for now that part of being A Chicken Maid is on hold. I don't see it as a totally necessary act, but for now I just enjoy getting to know my Feathered Friends. Madam Poulette continues to be broody but comes off the nest each day for about 15 mins, during this time I endeavour to collect any eggs she may have laid and don't worry myself silly about picking her up anymore..

Today is Market day and its going to be a big one I am told, I am keen to get there early to see what's going on in Chicken Corner. Feeling a little more confidant this time, as I know more or less what to expect but again it is very hot, so I take with me my face mask and drinking water to avoid gagging and retching. I have arranged to meet up with "The Experts" in the hope that they will teach me the basics in identity. Again it is very popular with the Brits and the French with people buying all sorts, Guinea Fowl, Turkey's, Chicken's etc. Much of the poultry looks really ugly and dirty but most of all very smelly - not my favourite place to be and already I am starting to gag, so I walk away. {B} shouts to me "There's some nice 8 week old fattener's here Carol", "really" I say. "you don't want anymore layers" he adds, "as you will have too many eggs to cope with". I agree with {B} and not sure why I am agreeing anything but these small chickens really do look cute. I have been told that all the chickens are ex battery, instantly I want to rescue them all but I settle for four eight week old chicks; two white and two tan and been assured that they are all hens and not cockerels. The stall holder puts the hens in a good size box by my insistence, don't want my birds couped up unnecessarily in a small box. She ties a piece of string round the box and hands the box to me. As I pick up the box the first thing to happen is that the chicks all slide down to one end as the box tilted. Instantly the chicks are alarmed and start to chirrup like mad. "No problem", I say to the stall holder smiling, who was watching me carefully. My pride being dented due to my mis management of the situation and instantly realising that the smaller box would have been more ideal for transporting my new born's. I tilt the box up hoping for a better balance within the contents but then, they all slide to the other end of the box. I smile and wipe the sweat from my brow, gagging and desperately wanting to run a mile but I stood my ground. {A} suggested that I just pick up the box and carry it to my car! yes I had thought of that but I know how these little lovelies can peck. They have room enough to put there heads out of the hand made air holes and then I would be in even more trouble with the obvious pecking order.

Driving home I wished I had just settled for buying vegetables but here I have four little chickens chirping away in the back of the car, that I have to release into their new Hen Pen home...yet another obstacle to overcome...

12 - Flirting with Monsieur Poulet

Image - Monsieur Poulet

"Oh Please girls", "how could you". Heather and Feather are flirting with Monsieur Poulet. "Have you no pride", "he really is not worth so much attention and you know what the outcome will be - more tears". Monsieur is being necked by both the girls at once. He is standing very tall, stretching his neck and fluffing out his feathery ruffle round his neck. There is no doubt that he is a handsome cockerel and obviously admired by the hens. The girls are cleaning him up, pecking lightly all round his neck and chest. He has his eye's shut and thoroughly enjoying the attention. "Don't come crying to me with a sore back later" I say to Heather and Feather but as always I am totally ignored. I have seen just how rough this guy can be and it wouldn't be the first time I have seen the damage he can do with those dreadful spurs at the back of his legs, drawing blood every time. I tell my concerns to Sweetness my Tractor Man, to which he responds "that's my boy, good for him" "not much good to us if he doesn't do the business" "Yeh but Sweetness - two hens at once"."Its in his jeans" adds, a smiling Sweetness..." On dear, Oh dear" I mutter...

Later that day there is a dreadful racket going on in Hen Pen. I shoot out there like grease lightning to find out what's it all about. Yes, its Monsieur Poulet doing the business, not with Heather or Feather as would have been expected but with Attitude Hen. The noise is unbelievable, with Heather and Feather doing a double take round Hen Pen, yelling at the top of their heads - no doubt cries of rejection. Monsieur and Attitude are making Whoopee. "See", I say to Heather and Feather "I told you so"... I feel a little sad for Heather and Feather the two blond madams, had put so much effort into grooming Monsieur...

4. Miss Attitude

Image - Madam Attitude

"So you are in here again" I say to the little black hen. She appears to be a bit of a loner, preferring to sit quietly in the furthest corner of coup 2 on her own. Can't see too much of what's going on in here as its quite dark, I scan the ground for eggs. "No eggs again today ". I go up to her and talk gently, once again trying to gain trust. She is not for moving, so I coax her gently with my foot, in the hope that she will not bite my leg off - she squawks like mad at me and runs out of the coup. She continues to squawk as she runs several times round Hen Pen garden. "What a load of fuss about nothing" I muse and decide she definitely has attitude. I look down to where she had been squatting, definately no eggs...

I contact a couple we know quite well Amanda and Bernie who will be moving here permanently in a few days to ask them just one question. I want to asked a million questions but I know they are packing and time is valuable to them just now. They have full hands on knowledge on Poultry generally, as they have kept all sorts over the years. Amanda answers the phone. "The hens are not laying eggs", "do you think there is a problem"? Amanda goes into depth many possible reasons why they may not be laying. Her first question is "What are you feeding them"? "Corn" I reply. "They need vitamins, shells, grits", "give them any left over food you may have, they are scavengers and will eat anything". I want to kick myself for not realising the obvious...."Thanks Amanda you are a gem"...

I rush full speed to the fridge and prepare a tasty overdue cuisine for my lovely half starved feathered friends. "Getting there" I say to myself with a new found confidence

2. That's my Boy

Image - Madam Poulet

We are woken this morning at 6.30 to the sound of our crowing cockerel. "That's my Boy" Say's my husband in a sleepy voice. I get up and make us a nice cup of tea and there we sit in bed with the window wide open listening to Our Boy {Monsieur Poulet}. The sky is blue and there is a gently sun warming to our arrival on our first full day at LePalme d'Orcharde. "Is it normal for cockerels to crow for so long? it must be 20 mins he has been at it?" I ask. "Yes of course" says Malcolm who has much more experience in his earlier life than my very ignorant self. "His probably wanting some breakfast and of course there are eggs to be collected". Mmmm, I ponder this as the church bells start the 7am peel out. We listen to the Cock crowing and smile at each other while the bells ring out to call the farmers to the fields. Yes, this does feel like "The Good Life". I make the comment that I wish my children could have been brought up in such surrounding, Malcolm agrees...Anyway time to get up and kick in with life and the Hen Pen...

Whilst I go in search of eggs, Malcolm is preparing breakfast. I search everywhere, in the 2 coups and through the long grass in Hen Pen garden - but nothing. All five chickens give me a wide birth and all are acting a little fearful. "I can promise you, I will not hurt you" and I chatter on regardless trying to gain their confidence. "Breakfast is near ready - where's the eggs? I thought we would have scrambled eggs today" Malcolm shouts to me from afar!! "No eggs today Chef, they haven't delivered yet"...

The rest of the day is put to getting the house in order and reading up on Poultry.....

1. Inherited Chickens

Image - Monsieur Poulet

Today we moved into our newly purchased property that came with five chickens in Normandy. Having done the deed with the Notaire (Solicitor). We then ventured back to the farm mid afternoon with the Estate Agent and previous owner {N} and his wife {C} for a small celebration. A few friends and neighbours also joined us for a drink or two. What a great evening it turned out to be, with music, champagne and lots of laughter...

Having little to no knowledge of Chickens, I knew I had initially just one question for {N} in my limited French. "What about the Chickens"? Having not a clue on how to handle, keep, feed these newly acquired feathered friends. I was very keen for a little know how!! "How often do I feed them"? I asked in a subtle un-alcoholic manner, fearing they would think me a complete dip stick..Too late they thought it! "Four times a day" came the reply from {C}, smiling. My immediate response was "WHAT"!!! My second thought was - no more wine for her. "Once a day is enough" speaks up the ever smiling {N} and then invites me to go along with him to the coups. There he shows me the contents of a bin near full of Chicken feed. Phew!! that's a result at least I can feed them tomorrow. I had a million and one questions I needed to ask him at this point but he could not understand me and equally I could not understand him. I make a mental note that I need to speed up with my French lessons as I can see they have a lot to say...

At the end of my first day with my newly acquainted 5 Chickens, 1 Cockerel, 4 Hens, I now have a handle of one food source that they have on a regular basis. I also make another mental note to unpack the new Poultry book bought prior to leaving England and read up at speed.