Poultry Heaven

This is a brief update to report that Mrs One-Wing is doing well. She has settled into a routine of roosting with my very handsome Australorp rooster, and they also seem to go around together quite a bit during the day.

Most of my pens have short “tree-stumps” cut from the branches of a big old pine tree I had felled last year, and the hens can either sit on these or use them as steps to get up onto the roosting perches. I think she does the latter.

Here she is eating with the others on some whole maize I threw out to them today, 30 November.

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It was only a few days after I let her out that Mrs One-Wing had a second encounter. Since I got them, my Kunekune pigs have consistently breached my internal fences.  The only way to really stop them was going to be a major overhaul of a 100 foot long fenceline between my house and my large shed up above on the hill. I’d planned what I wanted to do, got the materials in - a heap of second-hand roofing iron and nails - and the only thing standing in my way was getting my courage up to tackle the job - alone.

On the late afternoon of Thursday 15 November I was tossing out some feed to the chooks on the concrete outside my carport when the pigs arrived (as usual).  Boris the old boar was especially hungry and he followed me back to the door, with chooks and kunes flocking around us.  Do I ever hate this!

He has big tusks and though he wouldn’t attack me, bad things can happen accidentally. I also fear for the chooks’ safety.  Suddenly he lashed out at Mrs One-Wing, grabbing her in his mouth.  I kicked him fast in the face and he dropped her.  She scurried off under my vehicle.

I was beside myself.  Initially I couldn’t see her anywhere but as darkness began to draw in I spied her settled down on a sack in a small space between the back of my second vehicle and a crate standing behind it.   I think she felt her other roost in the open carport was too exposed now she had been attacked close by.  “Sensible place,” I thought, “but this pig carry-on has got to stop.”

Next day Mrs One-Wing was nowhere in sight.  All day as I worked I kept a lookout for her.  Nothing - not a sign anywhere. I was worried.  Had she died, or decided to leave this place that had twice nearly cost her her life? If she had, how and where was she going to survive?  Then late in the afternoon Tippy led me to her.  She was fascinated by something under the back of that car, and when I got right down to look properly, it was Mrs One-Wing.  The reason she hadn’t been out was that somehow she had got a bunch of ragged ends from the sack well and truly tangled round one foot.

With a sigh of relief I got in with a pair of scissors and managed to cut her loose.  She hopped off quickly - before I could clean off the tangles - looking a bit like a feather-footed Pekin Bantam on one side.  I had to wait until dark to catch her and bring her indoors.  It took me quite a few minutes to disentangle all the knots and ends she had managed to wind round herself.  Unbelieveable!  Maybe, as my friend Jean suggested, she should be called “Calamity Jane”!

It was this series of events that finally pushed me over the edge and into tackling that fence conversion last weekend.  You can see the photos HERE.   At the time of writing I am still taking things quietly, but the benefits from all that effort are enormous.  I have some measure of control at last.

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On the afternoon of the accident, I drove the 20 miles to my nearest vet and bought a muzzle for Tippy. Ben already has one, since he tried to get eggs out of the backs of a couple of ducks 2 years ago, but I hadn’t always put it on him lately. Muzzles are now standard issue when the young dogs go outside.

At the same time I bought a tube of Aloe Vera Gel. This wonderful stuff is great for healing tissue because it contains a factor called allantoin, which has been proved to encourage cell division and new tissue growth.

By that evening Mrs One-Wing was showing more interest in her food and drink.  She looked terrible - her feathers were tousled and matted in places, she had feathers missing, and the longest flight feathers on her left wing had a pemanent droop - obviously they had been under attack also.  She didn’t stand up much in the first 24 hours but I was amazed at the resilience that enabled her to take food and drink on board when she had been so badly mauled about. Fortunately, her legs were not damaged.

The following morning I took this hasty photo of her - from her damaged side - and you can see the black patch in her shoulder feathers that is the blood congealed on the remaining stump of her wing joint.

It soon became pretty clear that she was going to survive.  I kept the food and drink flowing, kept on with the oral antibiotic, and began applying the Aloe Vera to the bare stump.  Soon she was getting up and down, eating whatever I put out for her - mainly crumbles and kibbled corn - and it was only a couple of days after the accident that she took note of the hens outside the window and made it plain that she wanted to discharge herself from hospital.

I think I probably kept her in for about 24 hours after that and then let her go outside.  We’ve had a long spell of dry weather here so I didn’t have to worry too much about the wound getting wet. At first I put her in the kitchen garden with the Pekin Bantams but she didn’t want to be there - she wanted to be outside with the others, so I let her out.

I was wondering where she might spend the night - she used to roost in the duplex with the Australorp rooster and her friend the other Shaver.  At dusk I found both Shavers roosting in the carport. She had found a good spot that was not too high up for her to reach.

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A few weeks ago my young Staffy/Labrador cross “rescue” puppy took a wing off one of my Shaver hens.  I’d been inside for about half an hour and suddenly realised the young dogs were still outside. Ben, my older Lab cross “rescue” dog came when I opened the door, but no sign of Tippy. I called her and she didn’t come.

Tippy was over by the A-frame cottage with something in her mouth and it didn’t take me long to realise it was one of my hens.

I called her off and shut her in the house.  Picking up my big horse poo scoop, I went sadly over to collect the body.  The hen was lying on her front with her face on the ground and as I touched her with the tines of the scoop I realised she was still alive!   I picked her up very carefully.  Tippy had chewed her right wing off up close at the shoulder, and all that was left there was a stump of bone sticking out of the skin.

It was a wonder the hen was still alive. How she hadn’t lost more blood I don’t know, unless the puppy had licked the wound and that had staunched the flow.  Anyway I carried the hen indoors and set her up in my hospital pen.

She must have been pretty much in shock.  The wound needed treatment and I washed it with some antiseptic pump spray.  She didn’t like that but it had to be done.  At least, I thought, a puppy’s mouth is probably a lot more hygienic than an older dog’s.

Fortunately I had a little antibiotic paste left from treating another animal so I put a first dose of that into her beak.  I settled her down in the cage with some warm newspaper under her, a container of water with a little cider vinegar in it, and a small bowl of chicken crumbles.

For awhile she sat there dazed, but it wasn’t too long before she took a taste of  the crumbles. I chose this feed specifically because it has additional protein and vitamins to feed young chicks.  I hoped it would help her pull round.

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Tweety gradually became more and more active, leaping around the cage and chirruping much of the time - especially in the evenings. He was eating well and trying to flutter out of the small cage - by this time due to his forwardness and outgoing nature I had decided, rightly or wrongly, he must be a male.  The leg action was looking better and better.

Now there was a decision to make - return him to his mother and siblings or not? He’d been with me a fortnight nearly (it didn’t seem that long!) and I couldn’t help wondering if he’d be accepted back. There was no question that he was still the smallest and I would have hated to see him victimised.

Finally in the late afternoon when I had a little time to spare I took him up with the feed round and put him in with his family. I threw in some kibbled corn for the first time, and mom attacked it fiercely as if showing the chicks what to with this strange stuff.  While they were occupied, I slipped him into the cage and no-one seemed to notice.

He was scared of the others at first, but followed suit, darting around on the edge of the group and grabbing himself some tucker. I watched for awhile and decided it would be safe to leave him there.

Next morning I went up.  The four bigger chicks were bouncing around on the pen floor.  And Tweety?  Sitting up on mom’s shoulder, surveying the scene from among her feathers! That sight was a huge reward for the time and effort I’d put into him.

To me this whole episode has been a big lesson in pre-judging the extent of injury. I wouldn’t have given that leg a hope when the accident first happened and I’m sure most people would have felt the same. In fact I fully expected, if the bird survived and could manage on one leg, to have to get it removed at some later stage. It was a wonderful recovery, and I’m very glad indeed I gave it time to heal.

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Tweety is definitely the right name for this little bird.  It chirrups almost incessantly - a happy, melodious sound unless it feels threatened or lonely, in which case the note rises to a pitch of urgency.  I have had it sitting on my lap the past couple of evenings as I work and as an experiment on the second night I slipped it into the front of my light jacket.  The cheeping continued as it burrowed its way into the jacket, further and further under my arm. It would have gone round behind me for sure if I had let it.  It seemed to enjoy burrowing around and chirping, and I reflected on what it must feel like for a hen to have 8 or more little burrowers in her pants!  Maybe they settle down better under a hen.

In the next couple of days I saw signs that looked like a little improvment.  The following day, I had a laugh to see the little bird standing on one foot, holding the other leg stiffly out at an angle and apparently beating time as it chirped.  It sure looked comical, but it gave me hope that maybe the leg was not dislocated after all, if the chick’s chirping action could produce such movement in it.

Then a day or so later it was able to raise the foot to its head to preen, and then it gradually started using the leg like a kind of walking stick - still stiff but definitely articulating from the hip. My hopes continued to rise.

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It’s heartbreaking to see a small bird injured and unable to walk.  Thoughts of having to put it down were going through my head as I carried it back to the house and set up a nest for it in my hospital cage. I didn’t know what sex it was but that didn’t matter - my heart went out to it as it struggled to move about, fluttering awkwardly on its right side and using its wing and good leg.  I couldn’t be absolutely sure when this had happened in the course of that day, but I knew I had to give it time.

I put in food and water and went on to finish my evening chores. It chirped a little before bedtime and then grew quiet after lights-out.

Next morning I was surprised to find it standing upright - on one foot, to be sure, but at least upright. That was a huge improvement and my spirits lifted.  I was pleased and amazed at how this little bird had learned to balance on one leg in so short a time. The night before I had discussed it on IM with an experienced poultry-keeping friend, who had commented that in the wild a bird like that if it survived, would manage on one leg. I decided Tweety and I would make this journey together.

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I have 3 Australorp hens and a very nice Australorp rooster. They live out the front of my house and the rooster roosts in the duplex over the way, while the hens roost in a purpose-built chookhouse close to the end of my house.

A few weeks ago I realised one of the hens was missing. I hoped she had a nest somewhere and that nothing had happened to her. I wondered if she would suddenly appear with babies.

As I drove back home from church on Sunday 4th November, I saw a black hen sitting in the middle of the drive down by the pond. I pulled up. She stood up and 5 chickens scrambled out from under her - what a thrill!. I switched off the engine, managed to scoop them up into my hands - they were still quite small - and rushed up to the house to get a carry-cage. I knew I had to contain them, and quickly. They were only a few metres from the bushy gully where I’d suspected she might have a nest, and I didn’t want them wandering around outside because we have hawks here.

I put them into the cage and when mom came anxiously to inspect them I caught her and put her in as well. Luckily, for the first time since I started in chooks, I had spare accommodation and they were soon settled in a place of their own up the hill by my big shed.

When I picked up mom and put her in, I counted and saw I had only 4 chicks in the box. At first I wondered if in my haste to catch them I’d counted wrong, but as I was getting them settled, a fifth one appeared and I realised it must have been clinging on underneath mom as I transferred her from the cage. That made me  smile.

For the first couple of days everything went well. Then when I put food out for them on the third evening, I again counted only 4 chicks.

I was looking around for the fifth, when mom stood up and moved forward, and as she did so, the fifth chick spilled out from under her and she tripped on it. Australorp hens have pretty big feet - as the chick moved away I realised it was injured and when I picked it up, its right leg was lax and floppy. I tipped it gently on its back and the leg flopped out to the side. When I put it down, it scrambled awkwardly across the floor using its good leg and its right wing.   Disaster - it looked like the leg was dislocated at the hip. I felt down the leg and there was definitely no break, but there was no control and no movement in the foot, either.

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My largest hatching of chickens so far has been from one of my 5 Indian Game Bantam hens. I have 3 Darks and 2 White Laced Reds and a Jubilee Cockerel.

One of my Dark hens decided to set up a nest on the bonnet of the second car in my carport. This wasn’t as entirely crazy as it sounds because the bonnet has things sitting on it and she chose a nice spot on some baling twine, wedged between a few other items. There were 12 eggs there when she started to sit.

As time wore on, I began to get anxious about the fate of the chickens if they hatched there. I could see them hatching, starting to explore, and rolling off onto the ground. Given that my carport has dogs, kunekune pigs and roosters wandering through it from time to time, that was not a good scenario. Though I couldn’t be sure what the outcome would be, I decided to try to move her and her eggs into a nice wooden box in my workroom.

She was well over half way though her vigil when late one evening I managed to get her and the eggs moved. I got the eggs settled first, complete with baling twine, on a clean sack in the bottom of the box, having temporarily put her in a carry-cage. I then popped her in on top of them and beat a hasty retreat, in the dark - because she was not exactly tame at the time.

Imagine my horror next morning to find her sitting at the other end of the box and the eggs gone cold through the long hours of a very cold spring night. Stunned, I let her out of the front window of the workshop. In the time it took me to close the window and walk 40 feet to the front door, she was back on her chosen nesting-space.

Without very much hope, I threw out some corn to get her moved, put the eggs back in place - throwing out one that sounded “sloshy” - and watched her go back to sit. I felt horribly responsible for the likely demise of the babies that she had sat on so patiently for over 2 weeks. This dark, serious-looking, quiet bird had won my affection by the way she had sat so staunchly on those eggs through all the noisy and chaotic goings-on around her. I prayed very hard that she might at least by some miracle get one or two hatchlings, just to keep her happy.

As time wore on again my hopes for those eggs began to dwindle. I had slipped a couple more under her meantime to try and ensure she at least got some babies if all the others failed. At last, over a week after the first eggs should have hatched, I gave up on them and decided I should take some away. I was pretty unhappy.

She had been sitting very tight for a couple of days, so I threw out some corn and she must have been really hungry because she came for it. Imagine my surprise on going to the nest to find 8 healthy chicks crammed into the small space among eggshells and the remaining eggs! Gladly I gathered her and the chicks up into a roomy cage and put it on my cottage floor. The two bigger eggs I had slipped under her I gave to a Blue Orpington hen who had just decided to go broody on 6 eggs, so that worked out fine.

All 8 chickens are doing really well under the watchful care of an excellent mother. I had already decided these Indian Game Bantams are canny birds and this experience has proved it.

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I thought I’d start this Blog off with an account of the first day of the Bay of Islands A&P Show at Waimate North Show grounds yesterday - 10th November 2007.

Bay of Islands Show is the oldest Agricultural and Pastoral show in New Zealand and this was its 165th year. It is held on rolling farmland at Waimate North. The grounds are studded with some mighty old Puriri trees [Vitex lucens], and from the Main Ring close to the entrance gate you can see the spire of historic Waimate North Church rising above the churchyard trees in a fold of the valley below.

The first thing that struck me was that this show has come on apace since I last went along - in a commercial sense, that is. There were many more stalls and commercial stands than I remember, and a large amusement area for the kids, which does make for a great day out for families:

Weather was fine and sunny with some cloud to keep things from getting too hot, though I’m glad I took a hat.

Horse events are certainly still very popular, with a very full schedule of hack, sport horse and pony classes occupying 3 rings. Some of the junior classes had so many entries that I felt for the judges out there in the middle of the ring. All of these were English riding classes - no Western riding at these shows!

Right alongside the Main Ring was a very attractive carriage-driving display with all the appropriate gear:

And an appropriately attractive piece of horsepower:

Keeping him company was something slightly larger - below. In the background you can see the old Hall where the indoor exhibits and competitions are held: baking, preserves and pickles, home brew, garden produce and flowers.

Still on the historic theme, the Pioneer Village team at Kaikohe had 2 impressive pieces of old equipment on display. I nearly got mown down trying to take photographs:

The cattle rings were not as crowded as I remember, which I think is sad, and there were no dairy goat classes. We had a very comprehensive dairy goat show schedule with full classes 12 years ago. I really missed the goats.

My biggest disappointment was that there were virtually no birds at all, except for some ducks and baby chicks in the Small Animals Marquee, and a lovely grey cygnet in a stall belonging to Willow Haven Waterfowl and Duckling Refuge in Whangarei. I knew there were no judged poultry classes at this Show, but I hoped at least to see some exhibits and meet some local poultry breeders. Hopefully we can rectify that next year.

Apart from that it was a great show, with live music…….

…..and the heartening signs that some at least of the younger generation are definitely on the right track:

Our next major show up here is at Barge in Whangarei on 1 December. I’ll report on that in due course.

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