Ten Things I Did Today

I am borrowing/copying Ten Things I Did Today from Ganching. Her consent was sought and granted when she visited Nellybert's the weekend before last. I believe it was the raspberry and coconut ice cream that swung it for me. Feed a blogger well and she'll let you steal all her best ideas.

Lulu belongs to Leitrim sister and Dmitri. We had the pleasure of looking after her last weekend and I found her a great solace after Dolours left the stage. Cannot wait until the Leitrim Crew head off on their travels again. Brexit has brought at least one advantage, as pets cannot travel freely and have to stay with Aunt Granny.

The Ten Things...

1. Woke up missing Lulu.

2. Went out to the woods to check that Foxy had made good use of Dolours. She was gone which is a relief.

3. Entertained visitors (Bert's cousins) and sent them off with a boatload of begonias, lobelia, lilies and peaches.

4. Spent an hour or so perusing documents and photographs regarding Bert's family convoluted family tree. (Thank you, cousins) Fellow genealogists will be glad to know that the Robinson Riddle has been solved. Maybe.

5. Spoke to Katy and Mick regarding my imminent trip to Norfolk. Getting really excited.

6. Consulted experienced meadow makers on Twitter.

7. Gathered quantities of yellow rattle seed from my meadow.

8. Had words with Bert regarding his negativity towards my meadow-making plans. It's not that he is against meadows, it's just that he cannot let the farming indoctrination go. 

9. Ate too many biscuits. Again.

10. Tried to find something to watch on TV. Failed.

The One I Called Dolours

 

She got five extra weeks and enjoyed a lovely spell of weather. She was still eating and drinking but had lost all her mobility again. She was as tame as anything and so light to carry.

We found out today what ailed her. Dolours was only going to get worse and would die anyway. Bert did the needful thing and I took her to the woods. The bag felt weighty. It's a strange thing that creatures so light in life are heavy in death. I picked a lovely spot for her and came home. I still have her bed to clear away and all her dishes to clean. Tomorrow morning will be the first day in ages that I don't have to go out to her shed, wondering if she made it through the night and then have mixed feelings when I see that she did. 

No RIPs. Dolours will be food for the foxes tonight.

Drumrankin, Drumkeeran, Dublin and Dingle.

 On Monday night I put the moth trap out and captured just two yellow underwings. It's not advisable to catch moths on consecutive nights as it prevents them from feeding and breeding. But... two yellow underwings. Against my own (and Rachael's) advice, I tried it again last night. The trap I'm using at the moment isn't that efficient but I'll take that as a good thing. The moths are fine without being trapped and I do get to see a few nice specimens.

This one is a burnished brass, not uncommon and really beautiful. There were two of them. Here's hoping they were male and female and will be out there tonight, making sweet, sweet love. 

This was the only photograph I managed that didn't feature an egg carton so that's the one to share. Who needs to see yellow underwings at rest? They only look good when they're on the move. 

This beauty, a Gold Spot, was in the trap four days ago. The best picture I got was of the moth positioned on my hand. Unfortunately, my hand looked as if was attached to a drowned cadaver so far too vain to show that one. Have to make do with the grey egg box shot.

It was another scorching day. Sometime in the afternoon, the clouds began to gather and there were distant rumbles of thunder. The rain never came, just a couple of spits in the early evening. I'd be glad to see a shower and so would my flower and vegetable beds. As always, the fine weather brings out the heavy grass harvesting plant. The machines rolling through this yard get bigger every year. Just a few branches ripped off the horse chestnut and a gate post knocked over. Thankfully, the dogs know to stay out of the way.

We had visitors this afternoon, a couple of younguns, Emma and James who'd never stroked a hen before. Dolours obliged them. Dolours is moving around more and can now travel about four metres. She's eating and drinking well, pecking at vegetation and searching out insects. I am thinking of applying for a Carer's Allowance. 

In other news, I am delighted that Ganching will be visiting Nellybert for a couple of days. She is doing a tour of all four Ireland-based siblings. Drumrankin, Drumkeeran, Dublin and Dingle. Exciting times. It's a ridiculously long time since we've been together. 

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.

Fear of Flying

 In years gone by, Nellybert traditionally had people round on Orangeman's Day. We weren't actually celebrating the Twelfth ourselves, just enjoying a gathering with other like-minded souls, some various musicians and Ernestino. In recent years it's all gone a bit quiet. Not that I mind for I'm not as big on parties as I used to be and, of course, Covid 19 has put paid to a lot of socialising.

This week the gathering of three bubble families was delayed until the 15th of July. And did we get the weather! I made tacos and Jazzer made a salad and we both made two kinds of ice cream, chocolate chip and coconut and pineapple. I almost wish I'd never found out about homemade ice cream as it is far too delicious and I am currently low on willpower. We spent most of the day outside watching and being watched by Dolours the immobile hen who sat in an improvised roost in the flowerbeds sipping water and nibbling on sunflower hearts.

Jazzer is mortally afraid of creatures with wings be they ladybirds, butterflies, songbirds or hens. If they sit nicely with wings folded she is merely nervous but when the wings start to flap she freaks. At the same time, she has deep compassion for wounded or poorly creatures, human or animal and she found herself drawn to Dolours. When it came time to put the wee hen to bed she said she'd like to carry it. This was a very big deal. I told her to keep the hen's wings folded in as she was being held and all would be well. 

When Dolours lost the use of her legs I brought her out of the hen run and placed her in another shed expecting her to be dead within a few days. Eighteen days later and she is still around. I'm not sure whether this is a good or bad thing.

Jazzer was delighted that she had managed to overcome her fear even if afterwards her heart was racing. 

It was a different story this morning. I'd set the moth trap the night before, not that well as it turned out for the lid wasn't properly placed, which left an escape route and there weren't many in it, maybe a dozen yellow underwings and a few others including an elephant hawkmoth and a garden tiger which I was pleased to show Ben and Sara. But not Jazzer - she hovered in the doorway praying that nothing took wing. And nothing did. Just as well too as the spotted flycatchers are partial to a big moth.

Garden Tiger

 

Elephant Hawkmoth

The heat today was heavy going for folks used to cool and rainy summers and it is to be hot all weekend. I gave myself two must-dos today, buy new scissors and update this blog. Tomorrows must-do will be to find the white hen which is quite another story.

My Feathered Friends

 Eight days now since Evie found the bundle of feathers and stink that used to be Helen and eight days since we put Dolours in chicken sickbay. Chicken keeping isn't supposed to be like this. It's supposed to be feeding, watering, cleaning out and gathering eggs - not all this death and decrepitude. 

Someone once told me that sheep are buggers too, always looking for fresh and inventive ways of dying, said that if they could die twice they would. Seems like hens aren't that far behind them.

The one that I call Dolours cannot walk. Apart from that she is well-feathered, alert and eating and drinking. I wish now that I'd taken her to the vet at the start, but I expected her to either die or get better within a day or two. She spent a good part of today in a shady part of the garden, nibbling seed and drinking water and looking around her like a gentlewoman enjoying a day at the seaside.

A vet's appointment is still an option even though I heard of a man, new to keeping hens, who was recently charged ninety pounds for a consultation and 2 grammes of lice powder. 

The one that Martha calls Sugar has been trying to hatch eggs since Easter and a couple of weeks ago I got fed up with lifting her off her stash and anyways, I wanted to find out if our rooster actually is intersex. She started off with three marked eggs, two of which have disappeared so now she is putting all her energy into sitting on one egg which, if it hatches, will probably be another rooster. 

I'm away out now to see if Dolours tried the freshly pulled lettuce leaves I pulled for her and in the meantime here is a photograph of the chaffinch that knocked itself unconscious by flying into a window. It recovered eventually. 

She was still a little dizzy at this stage. I was worried she'd lose her grip on the branch and gently lifted her off whereupon she flew into a clump of lupins. I left her to it and the next time I looked she was gone.