Spreading the risk

Whether it was the shock of losing the coup that has spurred on Heinz 57 or maybe it's just that spring is in the air; she is broody.

Since our fox break in we've been leaving our eggs to accumulate in the nest box. When John went to the cabin to let them out last Thursday morning, Heinz 57 chicken was sitting, her wings spread protectively over the eggs.

John has converted Emma's old rabbit cage into a suitable brood box to give Heinz 57 the peace she needs away from Kelvin & Mrs.

We certainly don't have our eggs all in one basket - with our little egg stash in Clitheroe and our hensitting at home, surely something will deliver?

The Birds and the Bees

So, to recap, at 1.30am on Wednesday morning I lifted from my sleep to the sound of strangling pain.   Listening intently I realised it wasn't the sleeping sounds of my husband, but a tormented chicken.

"The chickens are being attacked" I shouted as I ran down the hallway, throwing on my dressing gown and grabbing my wellies at the bottom of the stairs.  Though as we ran down the garden I did just wonder if I might just have been dreaming.

John shone the torch into the pen and spotted the first corpse.  In all the years I have lived at Harrop we've always had hens and never any sightings of a fox near the homestead.  We tend to view locking the chickens away as a fairly academic exercise and on Tuesday night we were guilty of missing the routine.

We lost two ex-battery hens and two bantam Rhode Island Reds.  Kelvin the cockeral was panicky but survived along with one Rhodie and the Heinz 57 chicken which we found in a tree the next morning.  On the positive side, at least the two ladies were able to make a successful escape out of the unlocked hatch.

In anticipation of more successful animal husbandry, Wednesday evening was the first class of my six week Basic Beekeeping course at Grindleton Pavillion.  There's not much more depressing than listening to the pitfalls of bee disease and no one is optimistic of getting bees locally this year, if at all.  This reflects in the price of bees, at a sale in the Midlands this week, each queen and colony were selling for £280.  In the bee world hope is  pinned for a turn in the weather and (the thing John and I most dread) swarms, from which, when managed well, bee colonies can be divided to create more hives.  (That's a very simple interpretation I should not use in my exam!)

Meanwhile, Craig, who originally supplied us with the Rhodies and now keeps Old English Game, suggested we collect all the eggs we have and take them down to him, as he has a clucky hen.  John asked what temperature they should be, Craig's technical response is "chicken arse temperature!".

There we have it, with nothing to lose and all the information we need, we'll let you know if we hear the pitter patter of tiny shells in 21 days time!