Now avian lockdown is over we’re slowly trying the introduce the Berry birds to the main flock.

Interesting times! The girls are very territorial and will squabble to establish a pecking order. But in advance of anything getting physical there is loads of posturing that goes on.Queenie (part of the main flock) and Ivy (one of the new girls) got a little too close for comfort today (picture 1). Picture 2 shows how Ivy reacted.

When they are intimidated, nervous or downright scared, the hens try to look as large as possible, you can see Ivy has dipped her body toward Queenie slightly, angling herself to look (from queenies viewpoint) as big as possible. She also puffed out her feathers, she wasn’t up for a fight, but wasn’t leaving anything to chance.

Its scientifically proven that when human feels nervous changing our own posture can make all the difference, stand up straighter, breathe more deeply, even do the superhero stance (but possibly not in public), these can all make you feel braver. Try it next time you feel a bit overwhelmed.

Final photo is me doing the superhero pose before a public speaking engagement, I just thought it might raise a smile.

The Berry birds have been with us since December last year, so over 4 months now.

Whilst Ivy and Mistletoe have plumped up and grown their feathers beautifully little Holly Berry is still very lacking in the plumage department.

Every morning from the day she arrived, without fail, this little chicken has presented me with an egg. Neither of the others have produced a single one. (And thats fine by me, its not why we have them).

Whilst her sisters have been processing all the chicken feed, corn, sunflower hearts, sardines and herbs, mixed with water and sunbathing into healing their bodies and generating new feathers, sweet Holly has been producing egg after egg after egg, all that effort means she has nothing left over to heal herself.

I would love her to stop for a while and focus on the rest of her worn out body, but that just not how she’s made.

Please, please make sure you look after yourself first, before you give to others, it really isn’t a selfish act. You are much more able to help others when you are fully well yourself.

(Don’t worry about Holly, I’m making sure she is getting everything she needs).

A friend mentioned today how strange it was that cute fluffy little chicks turn into ugly old hens (she may not have been quite so harsh, but that was the gist) and when I think about it objectively, she’s not wrong.

Now, because my girls are ex commercial hens, I don’t get them as cute baby chicks, they come to me as slightly bald, quite scared, mature hens. I know at that point they aren’t beautiful, but they regrow feathers and their personalities start to shine through.

Some are feisty little things like Gloria, Queenie and Holly, some are sweet natured and gentle like Chickpea, Sweetpea, Ivy and Mistletoe, others are the matriachs, true “mother hens” and protectors of the flock like Henrietta and Princess.

But to me they are all beautiful, their trusting hearts, their zest for life, their inquisitive natures, after all they’ve been through, is truly amazing.

I think that humans are the same, we may make superficial judgements about someone’s looks when we first meet them. But once you get to know someone’s personality don’t you find they get more or less attractive based on their behaviours and attitude?

Physically lovely people who constantly see the negatives, or complain, or gossip don’t seem so lovely anymore. Whilst people who are kind, thoughtful and caring become so much more attractive.

Henrietta has been looking dreadful the last couple of days, her moult is quite severe and it’s making her grumpy.

As the leader she’s usually a benign dictator to the rest of the flock, only giving the briefest of reprimands when absolutely necessary. But this moult has taken it out of her, she’s tired and grumpy, she’s basically had enough of it now.

Its a huge strain on a chicken to regrow feathers, in order for their tiny bodys to make that effort they stop laying for a while and all their resource is expended on growing beautiful new feathers. I help by adding protein to their feed, but ultimately they do all the work.

The good news for little Henrietta is that all her hard work is paying off. Its not really visible yet, she still looks very tatty, but look closely and you can see her pin feathers growing through. In another week she’ll be back to her old self, but with a beautiful new plumage to show for it.

It’s very true that sometimes its darkest before dawn. Sometimes you are working your hardest, giving it your all, and the results don’t seem to come.

Just keep going, hard work and effort will bring results, you might just need to give it a little bit of time.

It’s Miss Henrietta Chicken-Bottom turn to be down in the dumps today. She’s moulting quite badly, which is always a difficult time for a hen.

She’s also got a wonky beak, which makes it tricky for her to eat certainly things and she turns her beak up at the protein-rich sardines and sunflowers hearts which would really help her grow those feathers back.

I was thinking about giving her some nutri-drops for energy as she was looking listless and a bit fed up. (But that involves squirting liquid down her throat which is never popular).As I walked up to the run the others came running (I always have treats), Henrietta barely raised her head.

But the she saw the sweetcorn – her absolute favourite thing in the world!

As I put it down the girls all attacked it with gusto, but Henrietta, despite (or perhaps because of) her wonky beak is most definitely head hen, and she quickly told the others to wait their turn.

She happily and noisily devoured what she wanted, then toddled off giddily chirrupping for a dust bath (the chicken equivalent of a spa day).

Sometimes, when you’re feeling a bit low, you just need to spoil yourself. Have that treat, go on, you know you’re worth it!

I don’t know how its been in your corner of the world recently, but here is South Yorkshire we’ve had a fairly miserable few weeks weather wise, very cold and dull.

I noticed that the older girls particularly were laying thinner shelled eggs, (and no shells at all a couple of times). I know they need calcium for shell production, so always make sure they have oyster shell to eat and I bake and grind up eggshell to add to their mash, so I knew that access to calcium was covered.

I investigated further (what did we do before the internet?) and it turns out that hens need vitamin D to be able to absorb the calcium.

The poor weather, combined with being restricted to their run (avian flu lockdown) means that they haven’t been sunbathing like they normally do, and it’s clearly affecting them.

Thank goodness that the weather has turned this week. The sun is out, and the girls are making they most of it (they really do bask in the sun).

We need sunlight as well, not just for the vitamin D, it also improves mood, enables deeper, longer sleep, lowers blood pressure and the affects of seasonal affective disorder (SAD) is significantly improved.

So if you have the opportunity, get out in the sunlight, just 20 minutes during the day can make all the difference. I’ve swapped my priorities round, I can work this evening, this afternoon I’m off for a walk in the sun.

We’re now 10 weeks into the Berry birds retirement. Their feathers are growing back beautifully and their combs have brightened and straightened.
They’ve settled in really well.

But we’re still in avian lockdown, so they haven’t been able to leave the run and free range in the woodland. We haven’t really been able to make the connection we did with the older girls.

Ten weeks in with both the Chicken-Bottoms (now just Henrietta and Princess) and the Birdie-Girls (queenie and sweetpea), they were happily jumping on our knees for cuddles and taking corn and grapes from our hands. (In queenies case often insisting on being hand fed).

The Berry-birds have not had that level of contact, and it’s very telling. They are still slightly nervous of us not quite sure if we are friend or foe (although we clearly mean “food”).

I know that once the avian flu lockdown is over and they can come out with us we’ll make that connection with them.

It’s the same with our own lockdown, which feels like forever, but will end.

We’ll have to remake those connections again, perhaps not with close family and dear friends, but with colleagues and friends that you may not have seen for a year. We’ve all been through our own lockdown journey, some will have been affected more than others.

Please remember, when we do get back, to be kind, be patient with others and please make the effort to connect and reconnect.

Just as hens are flock birds, we humans need to be with other people. 

Well what a difference a week can make. Just a few days ago the vet was suggesting that little Sweetpea might be too ill to save.

But we tried anyway.

This week she’s gone from laying listlessly in my arms and taking her medicine without complaint to struggling to escape my cuddles and fighting beak and claw to avoid the medication. And I couldn’t be happier.

Last week when we got back from the vets I was really struggling with our decision to keep trying, I was worried that we had prolonged the inevitable and perhaps we were being cruel by keeping alive.

As the first couple of days passed these feelings got worse. She didn’t seem to be making any improvement and every morning I ran to the coop with trepidation, would she have survived the night?

But then one morning she was up and about, not moving much, but certainly an improvement.

Her comb has reddened and she’s certainly more lively and chatty. Today she’s out of the nightingale ward and back with the flock. (Queenie is chief nurse).

We aren’t out of the woods yet, but she’s doing so much better.

Sometimes you just have to give it time, have a little patience and trust that things will work out in the end. In the word’s of the legendary George Michael, you’ve gotta have faith.

So, it’s New Years Eve 2020, and as a final kicker from this year I’m nursing a very sick hen.

Sweetpea wasn’t herself yesterday, puffed up and less chatty than usual, so rather than risk it turning worse we went straight to the vet. What I wasn’t expecting was his diagnosis, probably egg yolk peritonitis, likely fatal, best course of action immediate pts. I asked if there were any other options, and he suggested draining the fluid, antibiotics and antiinflammatories. But was very clear that this was likely palliative care rather than cure. (This is the option we’ve gone for).

He was very gentle about it, but said that with ex commercial hens the best I could hope for really was about a year before they succumbed to illness due to overlaying. He made me pause and question why I was rescuing ex commercial birds, having lost Chickpea and Gloria already this year, it appears that I’m about to lose Sweetpea as well (And she only arrived in April). It really hurts, I love these birds, they are my pets. They go too soon, can I keep doing this?

If I got hens from a breeder at point of lay they could easily last 8-10 years in the best of health, that’s just not a realistic expectation for ex commercial girls. But it’s not why I decided to have hens in the first place.

I know that if Sweetpea could talk she would tell you that for her 2020 has been the best year of her life. She retired in April and came to Rockley, from a permanent home in a cage in a barn she spent the summer and autumn outside in the sun, dust bathing with her flock and digging for worms, following us around constantly chattering away, the happiest of all my hens. She oversaw the building of the new run and was the first to dive into the leaves that we tired to rake up in autumn. She has loved her retirement, although it may be cut short, it’s been sweet.

So I’ll hope for a miracle, and sit with the pain, but also remember that just because sometimes things are hard, that doesn’t mean they aren’t worth doing.

So with the global pandemic in the human world occurring it may have (understandably) passed people by that there is a similar crisis in the avian world. Avian flu has reached UK shores, resulting in a government ordered severe lockdown of all domestic birds. Since the 14th December all the girls have been restricted to their respective runs.

The older girls (Chicken bottoms and Birdy girls) are secured in the new pen, 30m² of space for four of them, with perches, walkways and mirrors to keep them entertained and new enrichment activities swapped in on a daily basis. (apple bobbing, hanging sprouts, lettuce wreathes this week).

The new girls (the Berry birds) only arrived last Saturday, they are in the old run, 8m² between three of them. I can’t yet get them to recognise layer pellets as food, never mind add anything enriching for them, at the moment their diet is layer mash and water.

The older girls are screaming blue murder to be let out of their palace grounds, they are used to having an acre to roam in, peck at and explore, trees to climb and piles of leaves to jump in. We basically enact “chicken run” every time I go to see them, and I am definitely cast as the villain of the piece.

The Berry birds are just happy that they have space to move around in, perches to roost on and a regular supply of food and water, the only noises I hear are the occasional egg song and happy cooing when I fill up the feeders.

We all judge our personal situation by comparing it to our expectations, our “norm”. This Christmas will be a far cry from normality for us as a family, indeed, it’s very different to our plans from just a week ago.

We won’t be seeing close family and friends that we always visit around the holidays, our Christmas lunch table will be missing many dearly loved ones. But actually, doesn’t that make us the lucky ones? We have people to miss, our “norm” is filled with love and friendship. Just because we won’t be in the physical presence of those people, doesn’t mean that the love isn’t there.

Please spare a thought for those whose Christmas won’t be different this year, whose day hasn’t been touched by the covid lockdown, whose expectations aren’t of a day filled with love and laughter. This Christmas, take a bit of time to be grateful that you have something to miss.