The Trouble With Hens

 I finished my last post with a mention of the white hen which, on that particular evening, was not to be found. She had my heart scalded with clocking and after three weeks and a bit, I removed her from the nest and disposed of the one remaining egg. We think the 'rooster' might be gynandromorphic, that is one-half male and one-half female. It only has one spur and its comb favours the spur side. It has never been known to crow and has been found in the nest on a couple of occasions acting as if it might want to lay an egg. If these were not such peculiar times I might have ventured to joke about this but I'd be reluctant to incur the wrath of activists and find myself banned from Blogger.

The only way I could keep Mrs White (the clocking hen) from returning to the nest was by removing her from the run. Unfortunately, life got in the way and she was forgotten and when I did remember she had vanished. I searched everywhere which took a long time. 

Out early the next morning to feed them and still no sign of her. Then I heard a soft clucking and out she appeared from under a rogue raspberry bush near the gate to the run. She was ready for breakfast and, I'm glad to say, was right off the notion of clocking.

Meanwhile, Dolours still lives, eating and drinking well and standing on her two feet. She has limited movement but it's an improvement. Every day I bring her out of the hospital wing and leave her in a different part of the garden with food and drink close by. She is even starting to grub around for insects.

I can see where this will go. Dolours will improve enough to get around in a limpy sort of way. She'll be ever so happy and I'll be grateful to her for bringing some meaning to my life and then she will die of some other henny ailment. Best not to get too attached.

In other news, unrelated to hens, my only grandson was six years old yesterday. I've not seen him since he was four because of lockdown. I will be going to Norfolk in just over a fortnight and cannot wait to see James and his little sister Emily. 

If Dolours survives until then, Bert will be responsible for looking after her. It's a worry. His track record is not good. I left him in charge of two adorable black chicks when I went to Vancouver and when I got back they were no more.