Apologies for the distinct lack of blogging.

I have been spending all my time searching for George.  He has disappeared from the garden.

I know my summer pursuit of ridding the garden of weeds was not looked upon favourably by my chelonian friend but I didn't think he'd take it to such an extreme.

In all honesty, I am incredibly upset.  I thought he would be with my family into the 22nd Century and that in itself is really quite an odd thing to consider.

We have spent a lot of time searching the surrounding gardens.  I had thought our garden escape proof and it had been for the last three years.  I have doubts that the small gap I did find, behind the drainpipe from the conservatory, was big enough for his not inconsiderable shelled frame but it is the only one there is.

Posters have been stuck in local and not so local shops.  Petshops, vets, rehoming centres, UK Tortoise Missing have all been rang.  Notices have been posted on various tortoise-related parts of the internet. 

All my effort has not totally been in vain.  It had been suggested to me, by more than one person, that it is quite possible that George has dug down into the soil to hibernate.  I am very much hoping this is true and that in March, I'll be happily able to report that he has re-appeared at the back door requesting strawberries.

The chickens are indifferent to the loss of their garden companion, he did use to chase them and made for a few ruffled feathers.  The rabbit on the other hand, was more sympathetic and sat patiently while I told him the news and stroked his ears.

I am hoping the spring will herald the return of our moving stone.

.....

World Egg Day!

Today is World Egg Day.


I thought maybe, possibly, hopefully my chickens might help celebrate this day with their first egg.


But no.


Not a chance.


It ain't happening.

Non-egg laying sit-in protest

I do believe I own the rare and elusive non-egg laying chickens.

......

  

Happy World Egg Day to everyone, especially those whose chickens do actually lay eggs!

The Egg Song

Mabel has started singing her egg song.

This is the noise they are supposed to make AFTER they've laid an egg.  


So, which came first, the egg song or the egg?  Mabel clearly has her own thoughts on this.

Eggs...?

To try and take my mind off Reg's departure, I've been thinking about my girls laying their first eggs.  According to their ages, Betty should be first up, although I'm not entirely sure Betty shares my opinion on this.


I was obviously looking wistful as Paul asked me what I was thinking about.  I shared my musings with him.  He paused for a brief moment and then mused back:


"Betty looks too small and feeble to lay any eggs ever.  Brick's insane and any egg she lays will probably be cube-shaped and as for the lolling headed, blind one in there (Mabel) - she looks like she'd have trouble walking in a straight line, let alone lay an egg".

A slight pause and a quick look at my face and he continued:


"But I could be wrong.  You could be sat out front at your table, with your little sign, selling boxes upon boxes of eggs".

I get the feeling he's been considering the egg situation for longer than I have...

.....

Paul does attempt, after his initial input of constructing the coop, to keep his involvement with my hens to a minimum.  The same doesn't apply to him commenting on my chicken activities.  


Recently I bought some leg rings for my girls.  I like the thought that they have something on them that indicates they belong to someone and with my phone number written on them I hope, that if they ever were lost, some kind soul would return them to me.

I showed Paul the rings, he stared at them for a while and then asked:


"Is that so you can tell them apart...?"

.....

I like looking out of my kitchen window.

It makes me smile, everyday.
.....

The silence is deafening.

Well, I managed it. It took a while but I did it.  I found Reggie a new home.


It wasn't easy and it involved a 150 mile round trip to drive him there and check his new home was ok.


He now lives at a stud farm, which is probably somewhat appropriate.  This one is for horses.  At his new home he has a large amount of new Pekin wives and is allowed to free range over the farm.  It is a brilliant outcome - I'd like to live on that farm, never mind Reg!


But at home it is quiet.


And I am sad.

 xxxx

Mabel

Mabel is my 'special needs' chicken.  She has no vision in her right eye and on our arrival home I discovered she had the start of a respitatory infection. You know the saying 'The best laid schemes of hens and men, go oft awry'...?


It had all started when I had been considering the size of my flock.  Once I'd found Reggie a new home, I'd have not so much a brood of hens, or even some hens, more like...two.  Two chickens aren't quite enough, it needs to be at least three.  Don't ask me why, as I couldn't tell you.


So this was my plan. To relocate Reggie to his new home and have the new hen arriving on the same day.  Sometimes my level of expectation is way off the mark.


I was pretty particular about the new hen I wanted.  A Pekin, roughly 15 weeks old and a Milliefleur.  I thought, given my fastidious requirements, that my search would take at least as long as the hunt for Reggie's new home.


But no.


Two days, TWO!  What was that I meant about the best laid schemes. 


So Mabel was duly collected the following weekend, with Reg still in residence.  I swear, when I was collecting her and even on the drive home their was no noise, nothing untoward about her.  But, the moment I turned the car off, 'quark'.  Quark?  QUARK?


I went inside and opened the box to show my gathering family the new arrival. 


'Quaarrk!' 

The family just stood & stared.


Ok, I'll admit that wasn't a normal chicken noise and she would be going to the vets first thing on Monday.  


My husband then enquired as to why I insisted on buying broken chickens.

                                                          .......  

Our quarantine run doesn't have a coop attached to it, so Mabel has to sleep in our house.  And just as Betty had done before her, Mabel took to this very well.


If not a little too well...

It was during this indoor time that we noticed her rather odd and exaggerated head movements.  Craning her head left and right and banging it on anything that was in the way.  She was also quite jumpy.  Some frantic waving of hands on her right side produced no reaction, nor did holding titbits there.  But if it was held in front of her or to her left she ate it, usually second go after pecking at thin air.  If you look at the top picture of her, you can see there's a slight unevenness about her eyes.  


So, not only did she have a suspected chest infection, she was also blind in one eye.  I certainly do know how to pick 'em.


The visit to the vets confirmed my suspicions - an upper-chest infection.  The vet listened to her chest, took her temperature (always entertaining, though probably more so for me rather than the vet or patient) & weighed her.  Nothing too serious was declared as there were no accompanying snotty nostrils, unsightly discharge, watery eyes or fluffed up feathers.  She was active, eating and drinking.  We'd caught it early, phew!  One long-acting antibiotic injection later and we were on our way back home.


Back in her pen, it was rather a good job she was a safe distance from the other chickens. Reggie wandered up to see the new arrival and not with his usual 'Hellooo, I want to marry you and raise beautiful chicks together' swagger, oh no.  This was his 'I'm going to kick your butt and then I'm going to kick it some more' routine.  


Mabel was duly terrified.  Her lack of vision means that she panics much more than is usual and began running into the sides of the run.  It didn't help that the ever impressionable Brick, picked up on Reggie's behaviour and joined in.  I shooed them away but I knew they would eventually have to sort this out between themselves.  Though hopefully, when the time came for Mabel to leave the quarantine pen, Reg would be in his new home.


In the meantime, Mabel would carry on spending the evenings re-cooperating in the house.  And continue her most favourite activity...

...harassing my husband.

I think I can safely say, he is well and truly hen-pecked!