At the weekend, Kate and I moved a light sussex hen that had decided to brood a clutch of eggs in the undergrowth by the side of the road.
This morning I discovered her with a few chicks beneath her. I also noticed another light come fluttering over the wall from the road this morning, so made a note to check later in case she was on eggs as well.
When I got home tonight, after feeding the dogs and rabbits, I went round the front to move the first light sussex into another box, with more space.
As I walked down the front steps, I heard what must be the loudest chick ever. I’d left them in a box with the lid down, in the hen shed. A reasonable amount of sound insulation I’d have thought.
However this chick wasn’t in the box with the lid down in the hen shed.
For some reason, at less than a day old, this chick had decided to leave home and was wandering quite happily around the garden. Fortunately it wasn’t too hard to catch, and I was able to set it down in the shed whilst I moved mummy light sussex. This full sized (if that is the phrase) hen was quite relaxed about the whole move process, as I shifted first her, then about 9 chicks and lastly the remaining eggs, including one that had a chick on its way out.
That was easy. So then off to locate the other hen, who I soon found, broody by the side of the road. With the other box empty, I decided now would be the time to shift her, before her eggs started to hatch. The thought of little chicks suddenly running around by the road as I tried to collect them up, wasn’t very attractive.
So I started to clear an area around the little bantam to make it easier to move her.
She looked unhappy.
I moved closer to pick her up and she turned to face me. I was distracted by the sudden revelation that her eggs had already started hatching and there were several chicks under her already.
Suddenly a flash of yellow and as I ducked, I realised where my missing crowbar had gone. Fortunately the momentum threw the bantam off balance, and I was able to grab its wing and force it to drop the bar as I pulled the wing behind its back.
It hadn’t given up though and as I tried to get it into the box, it made a clumsy and futile attempt for my throat with its beak, its breath hot against my Adam’s Apple. A larger bird might have had the edge, but a bantam with only one free wing was no match for me. Read it and weep you little clucker!
That said, as I struggled to pick up the 6 or so chicks and put them into the box, mummy took every opportunity to peck me. She continued this relentless pecking as I added the eggs to the box also. I was glad when I was able to put the lid down and place the box into the hen shed.
I’m not looking forward to feeding her tomorrow morning though!