We have had a few deaths the past fortnight in the chicken world. One of the old brown hen was the first to go. When we calculated she must of been around 8 years old, not bad for a chicken I'd say, especially as ours have a hard life free ranging round the farm.
Last week I found our old cockerel with the hopperdy leg dead in the sheep and Gorgons field, he could have been trodden on accidentally but there was no sign of injury. I'm pretty sure the old chickens are now sighing with relief that they only have three males around (the mallard seems to have gotten over his admiration for the chickens for now so they do not have to run away from him either).
Last night as Master C shut the pigs and chickens up he found the last of the black girls I bought a couple of years ago on the floor having a fit. She got over it and was put in a crate for the night, this morning I found her a little stiff and cold. Another one bites the dust.
The legs of a white chicken, getting on in years, have given up on her. She can wobble for a bit then falls. An easy target for the cockerels, she was moved to the new chickens barn where she rested and ate for a couple of weeks before being hen pecked by the others. She probably should have gone to meet her maker in the sky. Being soft farmers she is now residing in the old chokey at night, sitting in a private court yard in the day, until she gets freaked out by a passing animal or child which results in her trying to flap off, falling and loosing her dignity by rolling down the hill. We then have to `rescue ' her to her private space. Most nights she is forgotten at shutting away time or worse the opening up of a morning but she seems to be lasting well.
Blind Milo, after nine years of having to stay on his lead is at last allowed a bit of freedom on his dog walks when miss F is here to control him. These strolls are now incredibly slow with such a big hunting nose that takes over to sniff everything. He now has become very selective of his walks, no rain, early mornings or cold. A fine weathered dog, setting the course we take is also his responsibility when he comes out with us due to his stubbornness and that fact that he is now disabled. We may need a guide dog!
Our last casualty getting on in years is Gorgon, he no longer cries and grunts of hunger as you step out of the house (he lives in very close proximity to us) which by the time you reach the barn doors you would think he has been starved for a week. Now there is silence, you walk in, feed the chickens, say hello to Esmeralda & Thumberlina, who very rarely may make a noise, open the door to let them out collect the bowls outside and then worry if Gorgon is still alive, he is asleep, you call, then call a little louder. He seems to have gone deaf, of course being a male it could be selective.
Last week I found our old cockerel with the hopperdy leg dead in the sheep and Gorgons field, he could have been trodden on accidentally but there was no sign of injury. I'm pretty sure the old chickens are now sighing with relief that they only have three males around (the mallard seems to have gotten over his admiration for the chickens for now so they do not have to run away from him either).
Last night as Master C shut the pigs and chickens up he found the last of the black girls I bought a couple of years ago on the floor having a fit. She got over it and was put in a crate for the night, this morning I found her a little stiff and cold. Another one bites the dust.
The legs of a white chicken, getting on in years, have given up on her. She can wobble for a bit then falls. An easy target for the cockerels, she was moved to the new chickens barn where she rested and ate for a couple of weeks before being hen pecked by the others. She probably should have gone to meet her maker in the sky. Being soft farmers she is now residing in the old chokey at night, sitting in a private court yard in the day, until she gets freaked out by a passing animal or child which results in her trying to flap off, falling and loosing her dignity by rolling down the hill. We then have to `rescue ' her to her private space. Most nights she is forgotten at shutting away time or worse the opening up of a morning but she seems to be lasting well.
Blind Milo, after nine years of having to stay on his lead is at last allowed a bit of freedom on his dog walks when miss F is here to control him. These strolls are now incredibly slow with such a big hunting nose that takes over to sniff everything. He now has become very selective of his walks, no rain, early mornings or cold. A fine weathered dog, setting the course we take is also his responsibility when he comes out with us due to his stubbornness and that fact that he is now disabled. We may need a guide dog!
Our last casualty getting on in years is Gorgon, he no longer cries and grunts of hunger as you step out of the house (he lives in very close proximity to us) which by the time you reach the barn doors you would think he has been starved for a week. Now there is silence, you walk in, feed the chickens, say hello to Esmeralda & Thumberlina, who very rarely may make a noise, open the door to let them out collect the bowls outside and then worry if Gorgon is still alive, he is asleep, you call, then call a little louder. He seems to have gone deaf, of course being a male it could be selective.
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