THE PRICE OF FREEDOM

..Sly fox strikes again

 TWO of my favourite hens have disappeared - Josephine seen below in the video just five days after she hatched her chicks and Beryl, another black Scots Dumpy.
 Both of them were stunning specimens and now they are no more.
 I can only assume they were nabbed on consecutive days by a fox as there was a mature cub seen stalking around in the afternoon on the day Josephine went missing, according to a neighbour.
 In many ways I blame myself and once again I am
 in direct conflict with the need for security and
 the birds' need for freedom.
 The residents in the compound loved to go out for a morning stroll and rut around the place, with the stragglers usually making their way back by around 4pm which is well ahead of dusk when the creatures of the night, like foxes, usually emerge.
 While the hen pen is about the size of a netball court and there's plenty of room for everyone, I've now taken to keeping it locked up.
 I really have no idea how organic farmers operate without losing their stock, but I just can't see the sense in losing more of my feathered friends.
 Josephine, who I bought along with the cockerel Napoleon, from a place in Northampton in September 2012, had a special place in my heart. She was the first to go all broody a few months back and started sitting on a bunch of eggs successfully hatching six chicks.
 They made a wonderful sight as they foraged around during the early summer months and were a tight little group until a couple of weeks ago when she pushed them into venturing out without her close supervision. The Young Ones seem oblivious to the absence of their mother but Napoleon appears to have changed in temperament and seems less ebullient.

TOGETHER ... but not forever. 

Napoleon and Josephine

 The trouble with Josephine is that she was a bit of a loner and probably, after spending the last few months sitting, hatching and rearing chicks she was enjoying her own space. I keep hoping she will re-appear but deep down I know that is unlikely.

 And Beryl, who was extremely aggressive and not disimilar in temperament to Josephine,  disappeared 24 hours later.  I bought Beryl, along with her soul mate Ruby,  at a farm on the edge of Saddleworth Moors near Manchester. Both of them  were wonderful examples of their rare breed species but now Ruby is alone and I can tell she misses her best friend.

There is a sadness hanging over the hen pen at the moment which is largely caused by the fact the happy wanderers are now confined to quarters and are limited to what they can get up to within the pen.

 Egg production is down slightly which could be due to this change or possibly the weather as the days are much shorter and there's a chilly, autumnal feel about the place. if any of you have advice on how I can bring some cheer back please let me know.

 As for the young fox, well he's not been seen for a few days now but I shan't feel sad at all if any of the local gamekeepers catch him in their sights.

SHELL SHOCKED STUDENT REACHES FOR THE TWEEZERS

.. Or how Daisy became a life-saver

 LEAVING Soho for the Scottish Borders was not a popular move with my daughter Daisy but this weekend saw her roll up her sleeves and finally embrace countryside living full on after I picked her up from her student digs in Newcastle for the summer recess.
 It was a baptism of fire. First she was hounded by the turkeys, then ran screaming as the goose patrol headed in her direction followed by feeding sheep who, despite my assurances don't bite, tried to take off her perfectly manicured hand.
 A wee bit precious at times, she has her own fashion and beauty blog the contents of which bear no relation to the muck, mud and dramas flying around here. But, after just a couple of days she abandoned her delicate pink pumps for a pair of green wellies, ditched the garish orange nail varnish, donned some denim dungarees and really got stuck in with the activities.

GOING TO WORK ON AN EGG:

 No ruffled feathers as Daisy checks out

her handywork

 After knocking out a few home-baked scones she then busied herself around the hen pen to check out the new arrivals before billing and cooing over Peewee, our one and only gosling.

 But she really stepped up to the plate when I brought in an egg and showed her how the chick inside was really struggling to break out. In an ideal world, and according to the experts, hatching chicks should be left to their own devices but this little critter was obviously in distress.

 "The rules say you stand by and watch and leave it to God and Nature," I told her. I wondered out loud if I should return the egg to its mother but she seemed to have abandoned it and didn't even attempt to peck me when I removed it from a spot more than six inches from her side. Daisy said it was obvious the chick would die if its mum had already pushed it to one side. She sighed, picked up her laptop and after half an hour she went for her make-up bag to extract a pair of tweezers. "Reverting to type", I sighed inwardly, but I couldn't have been more wrong. The tweezers were not for her eyebrows but for Operation Hope!

CLINGING ON: Wee chick

 Using the skill of a surgeon she spent the next two hours pain-stakingly removing the entire outer shell by tweezers having read up on the dangers of trying to help a chick hatch. One false move and the internal network of blood vessels supporting the little guy could've collapsed and brought about massive blood loss and a rapid demise.  She knew she had to remove the shell but without breaking the rubbery outer membrane but it was the membrane which was causing the trouble. The skin was so thick the chick was unable to break free from its surrounds. Daisy's normally squeamish and her nursing skills - on me anyway - are deplorable. So I was well impressed when she continued  in her mission to save the tiny Scots Dumpy fragment by shell fragment.

TOM HOPE: On his way to mum

All of his exterior blood vessel support system was being held together inside a very fine membrane underneath the more rubbery one which held the chick in a vice-like grip. After another hour of delicate work an almost indistinguishable blob of matted feathers, gunk and other yucky stuff lay on the kitchen table. Out came the hair dryer to keep the tiny bundle warm while I plugged in the incubator and set  the thermostat at 37.5C. We left him overnight still attached to the equivalent of the afterbirth or placenta wondering and agonising if we had done the right thing by intervening when we did.

 By the next morning he (we're sure it's a he) was chirping away and had managed to disentangle himself from the yolk sack which would have supplied him with lifesaving nutrients during the night. In fact I just read this morning that chicks can survive without food or water for 24 hours after hatching because of the nutrients in their system.

CRACKING CHICK: Tom Hope ponders on

his new life ahead

 Daisy was well pleased with the outcome and has now named the little fluffy ball Tom Hope.

  The next big test was to return him to Josephine, his mum, and hope she would not reject or even attack him. I've read stories in other peoples' blogs about mother hens going psycho for seemingly no reason at all and killing their young. Josephine put the temper and mental into temperamental before she went broody and she is still approached with caution by me while hubby gives her a very wide berth these days after feeling the sharp end of her beak! However, considering she already has five healthy chicks one more was not going to be the issue. As I put some feed on the floor of the coop I snuck tiny Tom under her wing. I'm not sure she even noticed. But the photograph above, taken a few hours later, reveals the miracle chick in the foreground is now settling down to life as a member of the endangered Scots Dumpy breed all thanks to a pair of tweezers, Daisy's steady hand and a night in an incubator.

 If you have any tips or similar stories about how to handle a difficult hatch please share.

SILO SNIPPET

 JOSEPHINE and five hatched chicks have been moved to a larger hen house today but I'm afraid that the weakest of the bunch will not survive. Poor thing appears to be blind and is not thriving like the others. The remaining five unhatched eggs have now been separated by the broody hen. Two appear to be left out in the cold while she's persevering with the other three - could there be new additions on the way? Any advice from old hands much appreciated. I feel out of my depth.

SILO SNIPPET

 JOSEPHINE, my broody black Scots Dumpy, has just hatched three of her 14 eggs. Motherhood has not improved her temper - if anything she's more aggressive as her mothering instincts kick in - hence no early pictures! Watch this space.

MISS MOODY IN ACTION

.. Or broody hen puts the Dump in Scots Dumpy

 TODAY Josephine went for her early morning constitutional in the hen pen before resuming sitting duties on the clutch of eggs she has been caring for since she went broody.
 It is important to make sure broody hens get a break, stretch their legs and have something to eat and drink. Long term damage or even death can happen if a broody hen refuses to leave her post and so, with Josephine, I lift her off the nest every morning and take her to the food station.
 A good friend of mine warned that I should keep a special look out for her should any of the roosters try to mate as a refusal often leads to forceful confrontations.
 Regulars to this blog already know Josephine has the shortest fuse in the pen so when Miss Moody went broody everyone gave her a wide berth ... until today. And this is what happened when Horatio made a half-hearted pass. (Click on 10-second video above)

MISS MOODY GOES BROODY

HEN HOUSE: Now a hot house

for broody Josephine

.. But Josephine still rules the roost

 OF ALL my feathered stock I would say the most anti-social is Josephine. She's a gorgeous looking black Scots Dumpy I bought in Northampton along with my rather spectacular cockerel Napoleon in September last year.
 Dumpys are normally cuddly, social chooks with wonderful characters which is why Josephine's moody temperament stands out in the hen pen where, in terms of pecking order, she commands pole position.
 Basically no one challenges Josephine and the only other Dumpy to interact with her is Napoleon; the two are normally inseparable and always sleep in the same hen house (there are four abodes from which to choose) with him perching and her nesting in a corner.

HORATIO & MOODY JOSEPHINE: Used to
be inseparable

 Well something very interesting happened yesterday - she occupied the smallest, tallest hen house and refused to budge. It's a favourite laying spot for the rest of the hens who were becoming increasingly vocal at not being able to get access to lay their eggs. He-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is stuck his hand in to engage with her and is still nursing his right fore finger for the trouble ... proving that he is hen-pecked but not by me!

 Being more wary I lifted up the hatch and took a quick peek - she expanded her body by fluffing her feathers and made a really odd, throaty gurgling sound which sent me running for the poultry books. Having lost one hen to egg peritonitus I wanted to make sure she wasn't going down with something equally terminal. Mercifully Josephine is not ill but her hormones are rampaging ... more so than usual. According to the experts and my chicken manual she is displaying all the symptoms of a broody hen for this time of year.

 Now incase you didn't know, a broody hen is worth her weight in gold for a small holder like me but for professionals it's a nuisance and some simply dip their hormonal hens in a bucket of ice cold water in an attempt to cool down the poor creature and knock her off her cycle. I think that's rather cruel but I'm merely an amateur so will move on swiftly lest someone should accuse me of trying to teach hen veterans how to suck eggs.

EVICTED: Beryl & Ruby

 I returned to Josephine and gently picked her up - and what a surprise I got. Not only was her breast and abdomen hotter than Hades she was sitting on at least a dozen eggs. She must have simply hijacked a full nest, knocked out some of her own and has commandeered it for sole occupancy.
 Horatio is non too happy as he always slept there while Ruby and Beryl were regular occupants on the very high overhead perch. Now they've all had to find alternative accommodation until Josephine completes her broody cycle.
 Hens' eggs take around 21 days to hatch so it will be interesting to see if she stays the course. I'm also wondering, with some concern, if she will make a good mother given her mood swings when she's not broody.
 * Meanwhile the surrogate turkey mum is still sitting on a pile of eggs, including those belonging to the Bourbon Red who was snatched by a fox last week. She also makes the same throaty, gurgling sound if you get too near ... hope it's not catching!