It’s been a year since our first hens arrived. We had been talking about adopting some ex-egg laying hens for a while. And in a peak of enthusiasm, my then fiancée, now wife, Helen and I chose a coop, built it from flat pack to would-be hen palace and stood it in the garden like expectant parents. We agreed that it would be some weeks or months before we were likely to acquire our intended charges. But the lengthy gestation was not to be.
Days later, I arrived home after a particularly taxing Board meeting. I went into the garden to sit and relax with a cool drink. Lost in thought, I was quickly called back by a soft, rising “boourgh”; the unmistakable sound of an enquiring hen!
Helen was buying straw at a local farm when the shop assistant asked if she knew anyone looking for ‘end-of-lay’ hens. They were going for slaughter in two weeks otherwise; a fate met by most commercially-farmed hens in the UK after their first year of egg-laying. Needing no second bidding, Helen sought a large cardboard box, punched some holes, and in went three hens to be called Hetty, Hazy and Hope.
Each one was soon sporting a colour leg ring for identification and scratching busily in their pen. We had to shut them in for the first few days to help settle them to their new home. It helped to avoid any repeat of their first day when they tried ranging our neighbours’ gardens!
When the settling days were over, our three hens burst out, running and flapping excitedly to the task of rearranging our garden’s carefully tended flowerbeds. Their search for tasty seeds, herbs and grubs led them to be indiscriminate in what they dug up, including any bulbs and small bedding plants not already firmly fixed by age or design. Luckily, we planned our garden with wildlife in mind; a profusion of flowering bushes and trees to blend our fenced outdoor space with the oak wood behind. The bushes provide welcome overhead cover to the hens whose ancestral memory still recalls the jungles of Asia from where their descendents came centuries ago. It also helped to cushion the impact of those six little feet that set about tilling our soil better than ever before!
Watching them made it so apparent how greatly they value being able to scratch and forage; to feel the soil under their feet. Ever busy, they would cover the entire garden like a hunting dog working a wood.
Our hens like to eat the sunflower hearts put out for the wild birds. But their real favourite foods include cooked peas, sweetcorn, lettuce and over-ripe cherry tomatoes. Their sometimes expensive tastes are shown as they scrabble with great gusto for pine nuts! Bread has become a favourite; white, wholemeal, of any description, so long as it’s soft. They are a joy to watch. The most fun though is watching them go potty for spaghetti; we’re convinced they think it’s worms!
[...] can read previous instalments of ‘Living with hens’ here: Part I, Part II, Part III, Part IV. Share [...]