I do recall a middle-aged Guardianista women who moved to the village, though. She acquired a 'fancy' cock and a little harem of hens, was negligent in finding eggs and inevitably before long a hen appeared with a little trail of chicks at her tail. When they began dying, she sought advice from the village daddy, a champion henkeeper. Suspecting Coccidiosis, he asked "What are you feeding them on?" "Feeding them?" she replied "but they're not off their mother yet .."
Tuesday, 29 June 2010
Animal rights luvvies are apparently concerned that Londoners are keeping hens 'without proper training or qualifications'. Well, many years ago I had half a dozen Rhode Island Reds running in my cottage orchard, and none of them, as far as I'm aware, had any training or qualifications at all. They ate, they drank, and for nine days they would lay an egg a day then take a couple of days off before starting again. In the winter I would mix some boiled-up frost-damaged spuds, bought for pennies a sack, with some layers' mash and the girls would attack the heap with something like avian ecstasy, their little faces coated with the stuff. In summer they dozed in their dust-scrapes occasionally lunging at a passing midge.