All of a rush, it seems, despite the amazingly hot weather, we have completed the fencing and bought the chickens.
The fencing was very hard in parts. The main part of the ‘garden’ is actually 500 square metres of rocky slope. Trees seem to survive well, and there are seasonal flashes of other plants, but really it’s just ‘land’. Once we had decided that it might as well all be used for the chickens, the fencing task became clear . . . . we had to erect some 70 metres of fence, made up of wooden posts, straining wires, and galvanised netting. Sounds simple. And so it was, in theory. If it hadn’t been for the rocks, it would have been pretty simple in practice.
Hours of banging posts with the heavy post rammer made me dream of a nice office job in a cool climate. There’s probably a much easier way to do this, and the locals are watching and laughing their heads off . . . .
Val joined me for a team effort on the wire and netting, and this went much better! With minutes to spare, all was complete and we went off to buy the chickens.
The guy selling the chickens had lots of birds. Ducks, geese, table chickens, laying chickens, quails, all at various ages. My request for four nice ‘poules pondeuses’ was swiftly dealt with, and each bird grabbed by the legs and held up for my approval. As I stuffed them one by one into my cardboard box I started to wonder whether they would all fit. The seller had no doubts, encouraging me to squeeze them in more, saying I could get twice as many in there . . .
I asked how old they were, and he said nearly six months. He assured me they were already laying, and to prove the point he pulled an egg from their box and added it to a nearly full tray sitting by his chair. Neat magician’s trick? Who knows. He did also say that the disruption of moving them could lead to a gap in laying. Then I asked him what breed they were. When he had given the answer twice, I asked him how it was spelt. He looked a bit puzzled, but wrote on the box “Worens”. He emphasised that they were the best sort for laying. I thanked him kindly, and left, not much the wiser . . .
A bit of internet research suggests we now own four Warren hens – from a breed of hybrids originally developed for battery egg production. This should at least mean that they are docile and good layers – though whether they’ll produce for very long we shall see. No wonder he was puzzled when I asked him how to spell their name – as it’s English, and perhaps he thought I should know better than him!
Following all the advice we found in books, we have left the hens in the hen house from their arrival here, and overnight, until they could be released the following morning. They seemed to settle in very well – so quietly that I wondered if they had much life in them!
This morning, everything was amazingly quiet in the hen house. I opened up the window, half expecting to find dead bodies . . . There they all were, standing staring at me . . . .
When I opened the door I sort of expected them to barge their way out to freedom. No . . . they just carried on standing there, showing no enthusiasm at all for the big wide world. I settled down to wait, while Val stood up on the terrace, making encouraging noises from a distance. (Val has, of course, a phobia of feathers, so chickens are obviously my responsibility!)
Eventually, one brave chicken ventured out to explore.
But it was another two hours before she was joined by the rest. Hopefully, they’ll settle quickly and start laying!
