Day 360.

Bush eggs: three. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: full. Upstarts: Brian!

NO! NO! NEVER! NO! Brian has asked me if I want to step down from the number two spot or fight over it? I asked her what grounds she had for trying to usurp me and she mentioned my “fifty percent less than two eggs this moon cycle egg tally”. I hadn’t really been counting but I’m sure I laid more than one egg this moon!

To think I used to be her friend. Anyway the stroppy cow couldn’t whip me if she tried.

Day 359.

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

I shouldn’t have spoken ill of the dearly deperched. Valerie came to the second-worst end I’ve ever seen (Licorice being the worst). One minute she was standing there saying how she was off to lay one of her “extra special, super-duper BLUE eggs” and the next minute she had no throat. It wasn’t a ferret – not big enough – but the blur that got her was definitely either stoat or weasel shaped. Horrific. Unsettled us terribly to think we had such a quick and ruthless killer in our midst. But The Female Person and The Old One were on to it very promptly and caught the killing culprit (a stoat it turned out to be) within three days. Such a relief, and we’ve never seen another stoat or weasel since (touch shell).

A poem about Valerie by Ruby
Valerie was standing there
Minding her own self.
When along came death
And robbed her of health.

We saw the cause of death
It was a murderous stoat.
Quick as lightening
It ripped out her throat.

Valerie kept on talking
But no sound came out.
Then she keeled over
Like a drunken lay-about.

So no more kitschy blue eggs
From sweet Valerie.
And now we’re all very nervous
Could the next death be me?


Mmmm. I just keep getting better.

Day 358.

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

Four eggs again today. The girls are really doing well for this time of the year; it must be a touch of competitiveness. Not me though, I don’t feel the competitive urge. I used to when I was younger, though Valerie, the Araucana hen, often stole my thunder by laying one of those gimmicky blue eggs of hers. She wasn’t a very inspiring chicken, not much on top and no oil painting (unlike some I could mention), but every flipping time she pushed out one of those blue eggs she thought she was the pinnacle of poultry perfection. Personally I thought they looked rather unhealthy compared with my taupe ones.

Day 357.

Bush eggs: four. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: full. Hen house: happy!

Camilla and Buttercup have come back, and as Jack had hoped they are now firm friends. It apparently started out badly when they were both terrified of spending the night in the bush but still couldn’t decide whose nest to spend it in. It was getting towards dusk when they finally figured out they should build a NEW nest TOGETHER. They said they really clicked after that. Camilla chose the site, Buttercup chose the materials, they got it built quickly, then snuggled down together and talked away the fear of the night.

This morning after telling us the story they both proudly took us to see the nest – complete with two little eggs.

Jack is so wise. I think Major would be super proud of him.

Day 356.

Bush eggs: two. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: pretty much empty. Hens tucked up snugly in the hen house tonight: all but two.

Jack called a Chicken Coop Council this afternoon and brought the whole flock together to discuss Camilla and Buttercup’s plight. He pointed out that they had been fighting rough for three days straight and were both badly exhausted, and that the flock as a whole was affected. He recommended that they BOTH share seventh spot and are BOTH last in line, which means they would share and minimise the punishment of being the lowest.

Jack told Camilla and Buttercup to go and discuss it, overnight, AWAY from the hen house.

What a sensible idea.

Day 355.

Bush eggs: two. Nest box eggs: one – Camilla’s, can’t claim it as my own unfortunately. Feed hopper: very, very low.

I was in the nest box, staying away from the fighting, when Camilla came in here for a bit of respite too. She was so preoccupied that she didn’t even know I was in the box next to her. It broke my heart listening to her sniffing, grunting, crying and pushing out an egg whilst being emotional – her first eggs should be special, not squeezed out hurriedly between battles.

Day 354.

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: getting low. Bloody wounds: three.

There have been big battles between Camilla and Buttercup all day. We tried to keep out of it but they are so closely matched they could actually do damage to each other. They’re fighting like little roosters too, not just pecking and shoving but face-to-face jumping and clawing. I hate it, I can’t watch.

Day 353.

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

It is DONE but who dunnit FIRST? Yes, Camilla and Buttercup have BOTH laid their first eggs this morning so there’s going to be real problems working out who is number seven and who is number eight (bottom) in the pecking order. It makes a big difference to how you feel about yourself if you have someone to boss around, even if it’s only one someone.

This should be interesting.

Day 352.

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: half full. Deep thought for today: just the one.

I’d just like to clear up something. People think chickens like to ‘peck and scratch’. If we pecked and then scratched we’d forever be hungry. We scratch THEN peck. Think about it – we scratch to uncover the food, and then we peck to EAT the food. It doesn’t work the other way round.

It’s a little thing, I know, but we all have our pet hates. The Female Person has a thing about labels on towels and clothes. I’ve watched her cut them all off, then she has no idea how to wash the towels and clothes as the labels have all the washing instructions on. So silly.

Day 351.

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: half full. Weather: cold again... sigh.

Buttercup said she had nightmares about the whirly bird last night but I said it couldn’t have been too bad because we’ve seen The Female Person’s brother often since the big bird incident and he seems completely fine.

Day 350.

The day the helicopter came. Photography by F L Campbell

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: half full. Weather: warm at last... lovely.

I was telling Buttercup and Camilla the story of the whirly bird today to keep their minds off their impending first eggs.

It was a day like today: still, calm and sunny. Major, Bertha, Steve and I were out on the old drive by the house when this mind bogglingly HUGE bird dropped out of the sky and landed not two hundred chicken-feet from where we were standing. It made this awful sound by flapping its wings around in a circle and it kicked up a terrible wind that bowled me over backwards on to my fluffy behind! But if that wasn’t strange enough, the side of the bird opened up and The Female Person’s BROTHER stepped out. He had a brief talk to The Female Person (who didn’t seem at all concerned about her brother stepping out of the stomach of a huge bird), then he GOT BACK IN and the bird flew away!

The pullets were astounded. Feathers – I’m still astounded!

Day 349.

Bush eggs: two. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: half full. Weather: cold again, brrrrr!

Ha! Even Ella’s getting a bit sick of Jack’s ‘attention’ now, says she can’t be at his peck and call ALL the time. Steve, Brian and I assured her that his attentiveness won’t last forever and she should enjoy it while she can.

Steve was walking around with a leaf stuck to that overly fluffy backside of hers today. We should have said something but instead we just laughed every time she went past. “What? What?” she would say. “Just thinking about something funny,” we would reply. She was a remarkably good sport about it when she discovered what it was.

Day 348.

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: three-quarters full. Weather: cold again, brrr.

I made sure to mention the EGG I laid and how I love laying EGGS and how I’ve got plenty more EGGS in me yet to the other hens, especially Brian. I know she’s planning something but I’m not ready to let go of my place in the pecking order just yet.

Jack’s spending more time with Ella than anyone (except Ella) is happy with. We reminded Jack that she is number five, not number two in the pecking order. It’s not that we older hens want Jack’s ‘attention’ but it’s a dominance thing, you know. He said something about finding Ella’s “large fluffy bum rather compelling” – takes all sorts.

Day 347.

Bush eggs: none. Nest box eggs: one – mine, I’m pretty sure. Feed hopper: three-quarters full. Weather: cold again.

It was freezing cold AND raining today. All the others went out for a scratch but I couldn’t be bothered. I actually went and sat down in the nest – just for a warm little rest, you understand. Well, the next thing I know I wake up hours later and there is an EGG beside me. No one around, just this egg and me. It sure looked like mine so I’ve claimed it.

Day 346.

Bush eggs: none – frozen egg vents, I’m sure. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: three-quarters full. Weather: cold.

COLD COMBS, it was freezing today! We must have looked like a picture of misery, all huddled together on the front lawn, one leg tucked up into our feathery undersides, necks pulled right in, all heads to the prevailing icy breeze. It didn’t work though; no treats were forthcoming from the people house. Sometimes The Female Person takes pity on us and whips us up a big bowl of warm porridge and raisins, but not today. Sigh, we must be losing our touch.

Day 345.

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

The wild ducks say they saw Batty BETTY today! What a surprise to find out she is still alive and well! And it appears she is living at the SPCA (Secret Poultry and Chicken Association) as a long-term resident. There she takes care of orphaned ducklings and is one of four special-agent chickens involved with animal welfare!

So Betty is alive and she has a career! I’m amazed and delighted, of course. I didn’t know she was capable of such achievements. I wonder if this revelation will change Ella’s mind from raising chicks to having a career?

A poem about Betty by Ruby
Batty Betty, secret agent
We thought she would become a homeless vagrant
She looks after babies and keeps them safe
Now she’s no longer a hopeless waif!


Small and perfectly formed – just like myself!

Day 344.

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

I noticed Sylvie giving Camilla and Buttercup a good peck this morning. It’s only right and proper, I know, but I still feel bad for Camilla.

Jack has ‘introduced’ himself to Sylvie, but he confessed to me quietly that he wasn’t all that taken by her. You know, I didn’t realise he was that choosy in the lower ranks.

Day 343.

Bush eggs: two. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: full. Filthy looks from Camilla to Sylvie: too many to count.

The laugh I had yesterday (at her expense) must have done her SOME good as Sylvie has proudly announced the arrival of her first egg.

So as it stands the pecking order is: Jack, me, Brian, Steve, Ella, Sylvie, then Camilla and little Buttercup coming in last equal. Buttercup had been slightly ahead when it was the three of them still to lay, as she is one smart chicken. But now, with this egg, Sylvie is definitely up.
Camilla is beyond livid.

Day 342.

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

Oh, hilarious! Sylvie was feeling a bit down today (what with her first egg due and all the changes to her hormones) and she asked me where the nearest KFC was. I asked what the wattles did she want to go THERE for and it turns out that she had overheard an Irish chicken talking about Kentucky “Freud” Chicken and thought it must be some kind of chicken counseling franchise. Oh, the poor love. I hated to tell her the truth but it was worth it for the stunned look on her face! She will have to seek wise counsel elsewhere than KFC.

It is The Female Person’s special day today. I tried to lay her an egg but couldn’t quite manage. I hope she doesn’t notice.

Day 341.

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: full. Weather: weird, weird day.

A funny day today; we couldn’t really settle to anything or any one place, just roamed around pretty much the whole day: front lawn, driveway, back lawn, chicken house, pond area, driveway, front lawn and so on. Even the ducks seemed on edge. Maybe it’s an earthshake coming. The people believe animals can sense an earthshake before it happens and become really still and quiet – it’s not true of course, and you should hear the noise the pheasants make during an earthshake, they get HYSTERICAL. I think today was one of those weird and unsettling atmospheric disturbances – “too many positive Ians”, I was once told. Though goodness knows who these “Ians” are and why they’re so positive when the rest of us are in a funk.

Day 340.

Bush eggs: none. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: a pinch of pellets for the pecking.

Another nasty piece of rooster work that lived here briefly was Minor (an Araucana – explains a lot?). Major liked him but he was the only one, even Valerie his Araucana hen, thought he was full of himself.

Major and Minor did have a fun trick though. Major was normally a very polite and respectful rooster but Minor bought out the naughty in him. They used to get up real early in the morning, sprint to the back of the people house and crow loudly under the male and female person’s bedroom window. Sometimes it was still DARK when they did it! Though maybe it wasn’t so smart in the long run because not long after a particularly early session Minor was Sent Away, given to a man in a taxi that had an alarmingly hungry gleam in his eyes.

We really have had quite a few chickens come and go over the years. The Female Person is getting better at choosing good-quality chickens that are healthy and intelligent, not just pretty. She is also very perceptive and Sends Away any disruptive members of the flock. It is always a bit tense re-establishing the pecking order after a chicken is Sent Away, but this ‘cleansing’ of the disruptive elements in a flock is worth it for overall harmony.

Day 339.

Sam - placid in the hands of the ladies. Photography by F L Campbell

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: quarter full. Weather: beautiful day, cold but clear.

He’s a good rooster though, Jack.

I remember Blacky, The Ancient One, telling a story Sam. He was a real firecracker, part “small rooster syndrome”, part “redhead” she said. He was very tame around The Female Person but any male people used to send him into a frenzy of stealth and attack. One Christmas the male people and a couple of male friends tried to put champagne corks on his spurs in retaliation for all the attacks he had launched on them. But instead Sam bailed them up in the porch – three huge male people scared of one small rooster. Astounding!

He was real nasty to Blacky on occasion too. One time he chased her and beat her so unmercilessly that she flew up onto the third-story roof of the people house and had to be rescued by The Female Person and a very tall ladder.

Jack is truly mild-mannered by comparison.

Day 338.

Mork and Mindy, the start of a legacy. Photography by F L Campbell

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

A slow day, relieved only by a fit of sneezes from Sylvie (Asian Bird Flu or over-zealous dust bathing?!?).

I was in the dust bath with Sylvie (before the sneezing) and she asked me why The Female Person keeps chickens. I didn’t really know and could only turn it around to our point of view – why do we hang out with people? Personally I find them very intriguing and relaxing. And I enjoy watching their flock dynamics, their own people pecking order.

Blacky told me The Female Person’s fascination started a long time ago when she was just small. Her mother was laid low with the flu and in no fit state to resist when The Female Person brought two day old chicks home.

After pulling herself out of her sick bed The Female Person’s mother made a warm and secure home for the chicks and then admitted that she too had pet chickens when she was young, as did The Female Person’s father. So, really, she was destined to love her chickens.

I know in times of happiness and in times of grief The Female Person finds great comfort in spending time with us.

I wandered back to the flock and thought out loud that I might walk over to see Grey Gun this afternoon. Jack said he didn’t think it was such a good idea. Frankly I don’t know what he’s talking about; must be one more sign of his mid-life insecurities.

To take my mind of Jack’s mid-life maladies I turned to poetry.

A poem about Mindy by Ruby
Mother Mindy, the start of it all.
Be proud, take a bow, stand tall.
The Female Person made you her friend.
Loved you ‘til your untimely end.
But your legacy continues,
More chickens followed on!
One of them a rooster,
With the great name of John.


Hmmm, needs work maybe…

Day 337.

Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: half full. Troubled minds: Jack’s.

Jack was weird today. He asked if I had ever thought about moving. “Sure…” I said. “… My knees aren’t that stiff.” And he said, “No, moving house.” What the wattles is he talking about? He said sometimes he got bored of Pecka Pecka and this house, even though life here is really good. He said he felt “restless” and “wanted a change” and “never really thought he would end up in Pecka Pecka.”

I told him to pull his head in, stop talking nonsense, get over it, and love the life he’s got. I must say he seems a bit young for a mid-life crisis.

Day 336.

Ruby (lower right, middle panel) looking stressed with her four sons. Photography by F L Campbell

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

A poem about motherhood by Ruby
If all things in life were as good
As the simple pleasure of motherhood
Life would be brighter
Decisions much lighter
And hens would be better understood.


I recited the poem to Ella but she wasn’t overwhelmed by it – even after I told her I had composed it with HER in mind. Why are my audiences so unappreciative?

Day 335.

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

Disappointment looms large today.

Ella had only one question in the end and that was: “Can I choose what colour my chicks will be?” And here I was thinking I had found a fellow intellectual!

Anyway, she has chosen family over career and will start one in mid-spring. I am not convinced this is a good thing.

Day 334.

Bush eggs: two. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: three-quarters full. Time spent on Ella’s project: all yesterday afternoon.

I listed some of the many positives and few negatives of motherhood for Ella and told her to go away and think about it, and then I’d try to answer any questions she has. It would be great to ask a career hen about her choice and what it has meant in her life but for the love of me I don’t KNOW any hen that has chosen NOT to have chicks and has a career instead. It will be interesting to see what questions Ella comes back with. She’s a very deep and thoughtful young hen.

Day 333.

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

Ella came to discuss motherhood with me today because she wants to know whether to get an education or concentrate on having chicks; she feels you can’t really do justice to both, like some modern hens are trying to do.

I think she is right and that the Hens’ Liberation Movement has some serious drawbacks – not least the anxiety young hens feel when they realise that though they can have both a career and chicks they possibly can’t do either as well as they might if they were just doing one.

To choose is hard and it’s a real tough choice for some hens. Not really for me though – even with all my education I still really only wanted to be a mother. I will help Ella with her decision making as best I can.

Day 332.

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

Poor Camilla, she squeezed and pushed all morning (inspired by my poem) until she was blue in the face (not unlike one of those odd Chinese Silkies, noted Buttercup) but still no egg.

Steve is a bit frustrated for her too as it would have given her some power to have her daughter just below her in the pecking order, but she knows there is nothing she can do to alter the situation. I have noticed Steve has been giving her underling, Ella, VERY firm pecks to keep her in order though. It’s subtle but effective retribution.

Day 331.

Camilla. Photography by F L Campbell

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

For all that Camilla is a bland-natured little hen, she really flew off the handle (handle of what, I’ve always wondered) when Ella returned from laying her second egg and gave Camilla a peck in passing.

Camilla has no automatic right to the number five spot in the peaking order but she assumed she would come directly below her mother, who is number four. But laying an egg is one of those irrefutable signs of dominance.

I wrote a poem for Camilla about the situation:

A poem about Camilla by Ruby
Get laying wee Camilla
Life is passing you by
Without that first egg at hand
Ella’s lead will amplify
She already pecks you
And shoves you around
Lay an egg as soon as you can
And her insults will be less profound
So sit there, squeeze and push
Take as long as you need
But lay your first egg my girl
If you don’t want to be bullied


Wonderful!!

I recited the above excellent poem to her and, though she still looked extremely het up from her little tantrum, she did go off and sit on the nest for a bit.

And apparently Jack is Ella’s new best friend as well, it seems. Sigh.

Day 330. Late Winter.

Bush eggs: two. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: full. Smug pullets: one.

Well, well, well, that was a complete surprise. Ella came back after a very short absence this morning to announce that she had laid her first egg and was now number FIVE in the pecking order. She had given us absolutely no warning that she was due.

We had a close look and sure enough: a good little egg in a good little nest. Camilla is crimson with jealousy (but not, unfortunately, crimson with impending ‘egg readiness’).

Ella is now Jack’s new best friend.