With nine hens (seven of them shavers) in full production, we're definitely getting enough eggs. I'm giving them away all the time, and people are starting to avoid me. "No more eggs" said Karen, "I'm all egged out".
Now my problem is that mostly they lay brown eggs. I'd really like some white eggs, and some of those bluey/greeny ones.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Bantams are a bit average when it comes to laying
Still not enough eggs! Happily, we benefited from another fortuitous conjunction (second time for this phrase and the week has barely begun). Mum and Dad, in a fit of excess enthusiasm, had got themselves three brown shaver pullets in early 2009, in spite of Dad's egg intolerance.
Not too long later, they announced that they were planning to go to Cambodia for two years for a VSA posting (see Life In Cambodia), and needed a home for their still-young hens. We've proved to be pretty handy at this chicken-re-homing business (though Sarah might not agree) so we took them on. Colin by now had given up on rolling his eyes and sighing dramatically. Dora, Bossy and Buffy joined the fun.
Not too long later, they announced that they were planning to go to Cambodia for two years for a VSA posting (see Life In Cambodia), and needed a home for their still-young hens. We've proved to be pretty handy at this chicken-re-homing business (though Sarah might not agree) so we took them on. Colin by now had given up on rolling his eyes and sighing dramatically. Dora, Bossy and Buffy joined the fun.
Bantams
Chickens come and go...
A little over a year later, we've had some chicken traffic. Three of Sarah's chickens didn't want to lay, so were ruthlessly (but humanely) dispatched. It's probably not what she had in mind when she gave them into our tender care.
Shortly after I added four point-of-lay pullets to the flock (if you can call the one remaining chicken "a flock"). They were shaver-type brown hens from an egg seller at the local weekend market. Frustratingly, one of them met its end in the jaws of a dog that strayed on to the property. We'd grown quite blase about letting them free-range while we were away for the day, and the poor pullet paid the price. Welcome Gretchen, Priscilla and Ruby, farewell loved but un-named pullet.
And then I figured out that four hens, prolific layers as they were, were not going to provide us with enough eggs. Sister Karen was keen to get her hands on nice free-range eggs, and four a day barely kept our own family going. What to do?
Shortly after I added four point-of-lay pullets to the flock (if you can call the one remaining chicken "a flock"). They were shaver-type brown hens from an egg seller at the local weekend market. Frustratingly, one of them met its end in the jaws of a dog that strayed on to the property. We'd grown quite blase about letting them free-range while we were away for the day, and the poor pullet paid the price. Welcome Gretchen, Priscilla and Ruby, farewell loved but un-named pullet.
And then I figured out that four hens, prolific layers as they were, were not going to provide us with enough eggs. Sister Karen was keen to get her hands on nice free-range eggs, and four a day barely kept our own family going. What to do?
A fortuitous conjunction
It started over two years ago, when I began making gentle suggestions about "maybe getting a few chickens..."
Knowing it would take some time to warm my husband up to the notion, I started early. After a carefully orchestrated campaign - not too many suggestions, no hard pushing, just taking the opportunity to present the idea when the timing seemed right - a fortuitous conjunction (my favourite phrase for the week - I'll try to use it again) of events led to us gaining custody of our first chickens.
The relocation of a former workmate of Colin's to a house where there was going to be no room for hens coincided nicely with Simon Morton's "Funky Chicken Farm" programme on National Radio. We agreed to give a home to four hand-me-down chickens, pre-owned by Sarah, and after faithfully promising Colin that I would do all the work, we took possession.
A large number of husband-hours of labour later ("she'll do all the work", he muttered under his breath), the unused children's playhut at the bottom of the garden had been converted to a chicken house, and a run with a six-foot high fence added.
Hello Alison, Alex, Sarah and Enzin.
Knowing it would take some time to warm my husband up to the notion, I started early. After a carefully orchestrated campaign - not too many suggestions, no hard pushing, just taking the opportunity to present the idea when the timing seemed right - a fortuitous conjunction (my favourite phrase for the week - I'll try to use it again) of events led to us gaining custody of our first chickens.
The relocation of a former workmate of Colin's to a house where there was going to be no room for hens coincided nicely with Simon Morton's "Funky Chicken Farm" programme on National Radio. We agreed to give a home to four hand-me-down chickens, pre-owned by Sarah, and after faithfully promising Colin that I would do all the work, we took possession.
A large number of husband-hours of labour later ("she'll do all the work", he muttered under his breath), the unused children's playhut at the bottom of the garden had been converted to a chicken house, and a run with a six-foot high fence added.
Hello Alison, Alex, Sarah and Enzin.
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