KILLER QUAIL

..Or mystery drama as small bird turns psycho

 ONE of our quail has turned psycho and started attacking the remaining hen quail for no apparent reason. I've now had to seperate the two as I fear he will really kill her next time they're put together.
 And while I know very little about the habits of quail, this is more than just rough and tumble in the straw or some sort of elaborate mating ceremony. He really wants to kill his partner and she has a terrible head wound to prove it as you can see on the picture immediately below left. That dark patch is her head wound!

BATTERED quail: In recovery

and clearly unhappy

BRUISER: Male quail 

silent and violent

 They've lived quite happily together for some months now but all hell broke loose just a few days ago and several attempts to reunite the pair has ended in disaster with more fighting.
 And they don't seem that happy apart either; she has stopped laying eggs and he just spends most of his time sulking in the corner of their cage. While they clearly can't live together they appear to be quite miserable on their own as well. The only new factor in their lives in recent days is I've changed the bedding from wood shavings to straw. Their diet is mixed corn and a fat ball to peck.
 He-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is has come up with the usual response when there's trouble with the livestock: "Why don't we just eat it?"
 If you know much about quail please contribute to this blog and share your knowledge because I'm at a complete loss as are my hen and turkey friends. I've checked several quail-related websites but other than warring, rival male birds I've been unable to find any reason why my little quail has turned into a killer.

ELVIS HAS LEFT THE BUILDING

..the turkeys are revolting plus other mixed news from the birds

MISSING: After a ruck with the geese

 ELVIS, the little quail who found a home in my handbag and a way into the hearts of folk in a Jedburgh post office queue, has disappeared without trace. I left him basking in the sunshine with food and water by the back door while I went to find a book before joining him. After a few minutes I heard an almighty racket from the geese and dashed outside to be confonted

WAITING GAME: broody turkey's patience

could soon pay off

with an upturned miniature water bowl as the gander Jack scoffed the last remnants of Elivis's corn.  The quail had scarpered and has been Missing In Action ever since despite exhaustive searches of the immediate area. Jack, a bully by nature, was looking a little coy although totally unmoved by my distress.
 This now means two of my birds are MIA - a turkey went wandering off nearly two months ago and hasn't been seen since. I keep hoping she'll reappear with a clutch of little ones but that over optimistic view is fast fading with each day.
 Meanwhile the broody turkey who has been sitting on everyone else's eggs for the last two months may finally become a mum in her own right ... well, sort of. A good friend of mine who was touched by her plight brought six fertile turkey eggs for her to sit on and they're due to hatch next week. I forget what breed they are but it is quite clear she will not budge until she has hatched some chicks.
 The only other way of getting a turkey or hen out of its broody mood is by plunging the creature in a bucket of cold water and, as inconvenient as broody poultry can be at times, there's no way I'm going to do that.

MADGE: Playing the waiting game

 On the hen front, another of my Scots Dumpys has turned broody and she's sitting on seven eggs though I confess I slipped in a quail's egg to see if it will hatch. I've moved Madge - one of the Isle of Wight hens - into her own box where she won't be bothered by the others although I do try and make her exercise and walk around for atleast 10 minutes a day.

SAD DAY AT THE DOVECOT: Three fantails

remain

 Scots Dumpy eggs are notoriously difficult to hatch because of a lethal gene which means a high number will fail to develop after a few days. But I'm hopeful we'll see some of Madge's offspring later this month.
 In the meantime I've some upsetting news from the Dovecot where my four fantails have been residing. One was found dead this morning inside with no apparent injuries or signs of distress. Another death, another mystery but the other three seem fit and well. The nets are off now and they seem happy with their new home.
 And there's more grief on the turkey front - Ant & Dec, previously joined at the hip are no longer BFF. War has broken out and the pair are inconsolable; they've had their squabbles before and I've been known to wade in and separate the two but this time the rivalry has overtaken their friendship.
 No longer can their turkey gobbles be heard in unison - instead I've had to put them in different pens after the last fight drew blood on both sides. As you can see from the video to the left a truce is unlikely which, because of practicalities, leaves us with no other choice than to to make a choice between the two.
 He-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is can sort out that problem for me and may be my mum will get a halal turkey on her next visit.

I hope that doesn't sound callous but it's been nearly two years now since I moved to the Scottish Borders and in that time making unpleasant decisions has become just one of the harsh realities of countryside life. As usual any advice is most welcome.

LONELY QUAIL, ELVIS & THE ROYAL MAIL

..Or two's company and three's a crowd

ELVIS, far left, with his two anti social

housemates

 I'VE OFTEN thought that if food takes an effort to cook and a greater effort to eat then it's not worth the bother! Quails and their eggs fall in to this category so I generally tend to give them a wide berth on menus and had no intention of buying any for our smallholding.
 However, he-who-should-be-obeyed-but-rarely-is, decided that egg-laying quails would bring a touch of exotica to our growing menangerie of hens, geese and turkeys and so a trio of Japanese painted quail duly arrived without prior consultation. This will, of coure, come back to bite hubby who should know by now that for every action there is a reaction.
  For example, it wouldn't surprise me in the least if some equally exotic new additions find their way into our farm in the Borders ... watch this space.
 The quails are being kept in temporary accomodation until hubby comes good with a promise of state-of-the-art housing for his birds. I can't see how we are going to make a fortune from these weird, excitable little things ... I can't recall seeing any Quail breeders make the Forbes List.
 As small as they are they are also not without problems. Three days ago I noticed two of them ganging up on the smaller of the trio, aiming dart-like for the left eye with their tiny beaks and so I intervened. He, or even she (how do you sex a Quail?) has been a constant companion ever since my rescue and snuggles up to my neck on an evening. No longer a resident in the hen pen, this Little One has managed to secure a spot in the house and accompanies me everywhere.

IN THE BAG: Elvis, now making occasional appearances at

 Jedburgh Post Office

 Today we ventured to the Post Office where we wowed a whole line of queuing customers when the Little One poked his head from out of the top of my handbag. After the initial "oohs and aahs" the questions came thick and fast until I was asked if he had a name. There was a two second silence in which I decided everyone would think I was a bad, irresponsible owner if I had not given him a name. As they looked on accusingly by the third second I blurted out the name "Elvis".  This had the net effect of those arround me subconciously taking one step back, holding frozen smiles with a look in their eyes that said I needed to be in a padded cell. Who knows why I blurted out such nonsense; I've never been a fan of The King and nor do I have any of his records ... let's just be grateful that Wills and Kate put  a little more forethought into naming their son George.