Day 207.

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: full. Warm thoughts: plenty.

It wasn’t nearly as windy today as it was yesterday but I still managed to get something in my eye. It was really sore and very irritating. It made me shake my head and walk oddly lopsided. The next thing I know (I was a bit preoccupied, obviously) I was being picked up by The Female Person, tucked under her arm so I couldn’t flap and taken inside. She wrapped me in a towel and I thought, “Right, this is it, off goes my head” (I have heard of this happening), but all she did was gently (so very gently) rub a warm, wet cloth over my eye and get whatever it was out. Then she gave me some cheese and sent me on my way. It scares the feathers off me to be picked up, but I have to admit it usually has a good outcome and this time I felt especially well cared for.

Day 206.

Bush eggs: none. Nest box eggs: one – it was shaken out! Feed hopper: full. Frazzled chickens: all of us.

We were all just doing our thing this morning when the most unusual wind whipped up from nowhere. It swirled around and we all formed a tight, uneasy pack under the back of The Female Person’s big car. It lifted all the lovely grass seed, powder and stuff and dumped it over the fence on the neighbour’s property (so no more tasty grass seed snacks). We hardly ever get any wind in this lovely sheltered spot and to get a wind that was so violent and swirly – it really SPOOKED the lot of us.

Consequently, when the wind died down, I took my shaky knees to the nest for a bit of quiet time and an egg fell out!

Day 205.

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: full.

The Female Person filled up the feed hopper today but she shouldn’t have bothered because this huge truck came and spread lovely, tasty grass seed everywhere. It must be some kind of plan to get us out and about more; otherwise they would have just put the grass seed straight in the feed hopper. There was powdery stuff with the grass seed that made me sneeze, and small white balls of something that tasted horrible – in fact the grass seed actually needed a wash to remove all that powdery rubbish – but it was a nice gesture and I didn’t want to go spoiling it by being demanding or critical.

Lots of little birds were enjoying the grass seed as well – we’re not worried as there is plenty to go around.

Day 204.

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: a few pellets rattling around. Naive chickens (NOT including me): one.

More sex! I’m surrounded by sex. Jack used the old ‘Look at this astoundingly tasty bug that I’ve maimed just limping slowly away to his hole – will he make it?’ trick, thus enticing Paula over for a look. While she was otherwise occupied – “Where is it, Jack?” – Jack jumped up on her like a spring chicken, did the business, then shot off laughing because she fell for such a lame trick. Paula’s feeling very deceived and says there wasn’t even any bug.

Day 203.

Bush eggs: none. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: quarter full.

Those low-life, good-for-the-pot-only Boys have just come back from spending the day with Sally and Doris. It beggars belief that they could want to spend time with common hybrid layers. What’s the attraction? What? Oh – I’ve asked Jack and he said I’m being VERY naive and it’s all about sex. I commented that Sally and Doris were hardly the type the Boys should be starting families with but Jack said “recreational sex, Ruby.” Jack and his ‘recreational sex.’ I’m too old for all this.

Day 202.

Bush eggs: none. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: half full.

We went for a really long walk to the next farm today and met our neighbours! Sally and Doris are two extremely common and unkempt-looking hybrid layers that moved in only about three weeks ago. They had heard Jack (and the Boys) crowing and were rather hoping we would come for a visit, as they themselves are a bit too timid for the journey. We talked for a while and they showed us their house (NOT very salubrious) and feed hopper (No Frills brand of pellets). We then promised to come again some other day and walked home. It’s nice to know we have neighbours we can call on in a bind but I don’t think we’ll go back – they’re not really our type.

Day 201.

Bush eggs: none. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: half full. Grumpy people: two.

The people spent some of the afternoon digging the sand back out of the channel that we had filled. When we went over for a look they chased us back to The Chicken Area and closed that flippin’ gate on us until VERY late in the evening! They seemed pretty tense about something.

Day 200.

Bush eggs: none. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: three-quarters full.

A much smaller version of the orange monster came today and dug a narrow but deep channel all the way from the people’s house to the garage. As soon as it left we flapped over for a look, ate lots of dazed and confused bugs (put them out of their misery, really) and then tried our best to fill in the channel. It was hard work but it was at least half full when we left – not a bad effort for an afternoon.

Day 199.

Bush eggs: none. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: three-quarters full. Stubborn hens: one.

I went to visit Brian on her nest today. She looks rather cozy and smug. I guess she deserves this after the incident with the orange monster and everything. I’m really rather jealous, of course. I haven’t felt the family urge for a while now and am facing the fact that I might have had my last beautiful, fluffy, cuddly chick. Still, at least I can help out with Steve and Brian’s chicks (not that Brian’s a first-time mother any more). These modern hens like a certain level of independence from their chicks, I’ve noticed, and that’s where Supergran Ruby can excel.

It’s possibly not a wise idea to be starting a family this late in the season but I’m best to let Brian come to her own conclusions, especially if I don’t want to be accused of a heinous crime like interfering.

But the seasons are turning and these are life-and-death decisions Brian is making. I’ve heard the people saying that the life of a chicken is an easy life, but that simply isn’t true.

Day 198.

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: full.

Unbeknownst to us all, Brian has been secreting away eggs and is now ready to start another family. I think this is rubbing salt in Paula’s wounds and Jack is deeply unhappy about the thought of more roosters around. But Brian won’t hear a word of it. She’s deaf to all good advice, just puts her wings over her ear holes and says “Scaly mites! Scaly mites!” so she can’t hear what we are saying. Anyway, she’s off to start sitting tomorrow no matter what anyone says.

Day 197.

Bush eggs: none. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: full.

I just had a conversation that was a bit awkward and sad. Paula asked if it was morally right and proper for Jack to mate her, given that he was her father. I said that it was all right for practice but she should avoid at all costs starting a family with him. She asked why and I told her about Frauke and Frauke’s son (by Frauke’s father) and how he was extremely beautiful but died tragically young because he was made unfit in the head and body by overbreeding. Paula then asked if she should chase one of the Boys but I told her that brothers too would make bad fathers for her chicks. Now, as all the males of this flock are related to her, she’s worried that she will never be able to have a family – and she might be right. I don’t know what to say to make it better for her. I feel so helpless.

Day 196.

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: full. Weather: nice weather, a nice day.

Great day. Full bellies, not feeling so bad about the ducks. Apart from a slightly stretched egg hole – a legacy of yesterdays monster egg – all is well with the world.

Day 195.

Surprise monster egg. Photography by F L Campbell

Bush eggs: none. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: empty then full.

The Female Person is back so we decided to stage a protest. Not about her lack of parenting dedication (this time) but about our lack of Peck‘n’Lay. We checked with the (stupid) ducks and they were out of feed too (not helped by the Boys going down there on pellet raids probably). So we called in the ducks as reinforcements and they called in their wild ducky friends and a couple of pukekos as well.

We all marched up to the people house making as much noise as possible. There were nearly thirty of us in total and what an impact it had. The Female Person had just finished unpacking the car and saying hello to her Little Ones when she sped off and came back soon after with not one but two sacks of feed for the ducks and us. Hurray for the ducks!

As a bit of a surprise ‘welcome home’ present for The Female Person I laid a ginormous egg outside her door. It was sort of on purpose. Sort of. I went to put a big poo there in protest at her leaving the Little Ones but out came the monster egg. Everyone was impressed and I made it seem like that was my plan all along.

Day 194.

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: empty. Grumpy Grandmothers: one.

Those grandsons of mine are STILL sleeping in the nest at night! I admit that it would be a bit of a squeeze on the perch if all ten of us were up here but the Boys really shouldn’t be squashed in the nest. Their legs are so sore from all the poo they sleep on. I had a go at trying to get them on the perch last night but was told very firmly to “BUTT OUT” by that hurtful Brian. Jack didn’t bother to back me up either; I guess he feels that the longer they’re in the nest at night like little chicks the less grief he’ll get during the day from four rapidly maturing young roosters!

Day 193.

Frauke and Kristen. Photography by F L Campbell

Bush eggs: nun. Nest box eggs: nun. Feed hopper: empty.

Steve, Brian and I were talking about foreigners today. I mean, I don’t like to sound xenophobic or anything but those spangled Hamburgs that we had here two summers ago were so weird. Sure they were beautiful: sleek white bodies with a dash of black on the end of each feather. Nice-sized combs and wattles, good clean legs. But they talked funny – like a very squeaky wheel laboriously climbing a hill in search of oil – none of us could understand much of what they said. They used to stick together and were very aloof towards us. I got to know Frauke a bit better when she was sitting on her first clutch of eggs but Kristen and I never hit it off. They were both extremely pretty but so overbred that they died horrible sudden deaths at quite an early age. Kristen especially was riddled with pea sized tumors if you believe the gossip (which I did on this occasion).

Overbreeding has been condemned in the Handy Hints for Hens book since the very first printing. Every chicken knows it is ill advised to procreate with your nearest and dearest. But sometimes young hens and roosters from the same family are put in the same small pen and they can’t contain themselves. They are so proud of the chicks they raise because they are often amazingly beautiful and the people who keep them think they are perfect. But disaster lies quietly on the inside of these pretty birds. This time bomb then awakens when the chicks near sexual maturity and they die: quickly, horribly. This is why I always counsel caution in the selection of the father of your chicks. I heard a story about one unfortunate hen whose chicks kept dying. It wasn’t until her fourth set of chicks died that the rooster (obviously not a talkative type) told her a bit about his family history and they found out they were brother and sister! She was so shocked she never went broody again. Now I know Jack is my son, and sometimes I think I would like chicks so much that I will thrown caution to the wind and breed with Jack, but reality has always stopped me.

Day 192.

Bush eggs: none. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: a smidgen left.

Still no sign of The Female Person. I must say though that her Little People don’t look too hard done by and The Old Ones are having fun chasing the Little Ones around. It’s quite a sight, I can sit and watch them scratching around in the dirt for hours. They turn up some lovely bugs but, strangely, don’t eat them. The Old Ones have let the feed hopper get alarmingly low – very out of character.

Day 191.

Bush eggs: none. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: quarter full.

The male and female people have gone away again, leaving their Little People with The Old Ones. I can understand doing that for a short while – I’ll mind Unnamed while Steve is having a dust bath, for instance – but any longer, and especially overnight, seems quite wrong. What’s the point of having Little People if you’re not going to stick around to raise them?

I do NOT approve.

Day 190.

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: half full. Number of unhappy hens: one.

Loads of treats in the feed bowl today – The Female Person must be some kind of sidekick or mind reader. Actually, to tell you the truth there was a bit much for us and we let the night creatures finish off the less popular treats and lick the bowl clean.

Okay! Okay! OK! So I haven’t laid in almost a moon – it’s autumn, the season of not laying eggs! And what’s the ‘point-of-laying’ and having a lovely nest full of eggs ready for sitting when the big people come along with their Little Ones, find the nest and take ALL the eggs? Yes, that’s what happened to Steve this morning. She lost nine lovely eggs – nearly two weeks’ work. She’s fuming.

I’d rather not even bother in the first place.

Day 189.

Sam and his super fabulous nest - again. Photography by F L Campbell

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: one. Feed hopper: half full.

There have been no treats in the treat bowl for days now. I wonder what this means. Does The Female Person no longer love us? Is she giving the treats to someone else!? It doesn’t bear thinking about really.

Jack had a little feather stuck to the side of his comb today. We didn’t tell him about it, even though it looked really naff; we just laughed a little each time he walked past.

Blacky told me this funny story about her Sam. He was a great finder of nests and would enthusiastically call the hens over to look at his super fabulous nest – only every time it would be the SAME nest. His hens used to laugh at him too, it’s our way of coming out on top even though we are under him in the pecking order!

Day 188.

What a squash! Photography by F L Campbell

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: three-quarters full. Emotional weather: a good day.

Nice day today, real pleasant and companionable, no squabbles between the pullets (Unnamed is now officially a pullet and I wish the people would come up with a name soon – it’s so obvious she’s a hen), no fights between the Boys, Jack’s chilled out, Brian and Steve are relaxed and I am happy.

At one stage we all got in the dust bath, it was a bit ridiculous really as we didn’t really fit. Blacky said she and her whole flock would get in their favourite dust bath and, if they got the pattern right, they could all fit and all help each other out with their dust bathing. But as she recalled it, it sounded very ‘head to arse’ to me!

Day 187.

Bush eggs: two. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: three-quarters full.

Oh dear, The Old One has turned up and found thirteen of the fifteen eggs we laid (I say “we” in an all-inclusive, team-spirit kind of way). The best bet (Steve’s) was eleven. The Old One has some kind of special knack of thinking like a chicken – a very rare and wonderful skill that definitely helps when it comes to finding our nests. He has also cleaned out our water container and fixed the hole in the fence of our run.

Day 186.

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: three*. Feed hopper: full.

Well, what can I say? After the lovely spring (autumn, actually) clean that the house got we thought we would give The Female Person a bit of a treat in the nest box. She hasn’t really even tried finding the other eggs, except for the REALLY obvious ones that is – like the one on the mat outside their front door (Paula’s idea of a joke).

*Look, as an aside I have to admit to a bit of duplicity. Even though I looked like I was taking part in the Big Egg Push I didn’t actually manage to lay anything besides the foundation of a pressure headache. Yes, I spent five days trying to lay but ended up just having to lay low. I’m a bit alarmed by the lack of eggs but fortunately no one else has noticed.

Day 185.

Bush eggs: three. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: three-quarters full.

Nice – house cleaned, mites in house sprayed, new straw, even the feed hopper was topped up. Very classy. Despite domestic excellence I have a bit of a headache.

Day 184.

Bush eggs: three. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: three-quarters full. Relieved chickens: all of us.

More earth destruction with the orange monster today. Brian was none too pleased to see him (it?) back but he stayed over the other side of the land. He dug a huge hole and buried the trees that he’d ripped out. We all went over after he’d gone and picked the seeds out of the pinecones, quite yummy. The girls laid some eggs over there too.

The gate to The Chicken Area thankfully seems to be there for looks only. It hasn’t been closed again after that first horrific day.

Day 183.

Bush eggs: three. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: three-quarters full.

I must say, Paula’s really pulling her weight in the Big Egg Push – it was Brian who came up with the name and then we all had a sort of bragging session about the biggest eggs we’d ever laid and about how long we couldn’t walk properly after. Feathers, it was funny! We were all staggering around doing sore egg hole impersonations when Jack came over and asked what we were all doing. “Nothing,” we all said, and cracked up when he walked off. Ah, brought tears to my beak.

Steve’s chick is growing well, which is good with winter approaching. You need them to have quite a bit of bulk on before it gets really cold or they just don’t thrive.

Day 182.

Bush eggs: three. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: three-quarters full.

Right, we have decided – Steve, Brian, Paula and I – to get rid of surplus summer stock (fertilised eggs, that is) and push them all out in the next couple of days. We thought we might lay them all over the place as a treat for The Female Person and her Little People to find. We even thought we would take bets on how many they’d be able to collect.

Day 181.

Bush eggs: none. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: three-quarters full. Precocious pullets: Paula.

So that’s what it is that’s changed Paula’s tune – Brian finally got round to telling Paula how chicks are made (I forgot to talk to her – oops!) She left it a bit late; if only she’d concentrated a bit less on those useless Boys of hers and spent more time teaching that poor pullet. Anyway Paula seems to have taken her lesson on board and is now being ‘ticked off Jack’s list’ – often!

Day 180.

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: full.

The gate to what the people are now referring to, as The Chicken Area, was open today. Maybe they are going to close it only when dogs come to visit. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing after all.

What a hoot. For the last three days Paula has been playing the complete ice queen when Jack does his special dance for her. TODAY, however, all he needed to do was just look her way and she was in squatting position. What a TART! I wonder what changed her tune? Jack, of course, was delighted.

Day 179.

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: full. Emotional weather: a bad Day.

Another bitterly cold day. And a bitter blow for us chickens. We have been deluded all along – it was not a fence around the people house, it was a fence around us. We just hadn’t realised until the final part was done today.

How could they do that to us? The ramifications of being fenced in are slowly becoming clearer to us all. No wandering up to the people house. No Great Gizzard Gravel Gathering. No laying behind the garage. No scratching up plants in the garden. And, oh my, no visiting Grey Gun ever again. This is bad, this is VERY bad. We are in shock.

Day 178.

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: full.

Steve called me over to where she was eating today, “Ruby,” she says, “what do you call a fly with no wings?” “I have no idea,” says I. “A walk,” says she. And sure enough, she had caught another fly and had plucked its wings off and it was just kind of wandering around. She thought her joke was incredibly funny but I found it deeply disturbing.

Day 177.

Bush eggs: two. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: full.

I have noticed Jack paying rather a lot of attention to Paula lately, especially now that she has ‘come of egg’. It’s rather funny to watch (though covertly, of course – one doesn’t like to be seen to be staring). Jack sidles up to Paula and does the whole circle-and-wing-dance performance that he saves for special occasions and Paula reacts like she has smelled a rotten egg. Goes all high and mighty and mutters something along the lines of “That’s disgusting – you’re my father!” Ha – she’ll learn.