Myrtle and Henny

Henny, one of our two black chooks, laid an egg on Wednesday. I didn't check yesterday, I returned home not long before I was due to have a drink with neighbours Steve and Ann at 6.30, as I do every second Thursday. I'll look in the nesting box later.

It may seem trivial that one of our chooks laid an egg, but it fills me with joy. For some weeks I did not know if she was laying or not. I'm inexperienced with this chook caper, and my involvement directly has been less than twelve months.

Close to a year ago, Lib came home from work with two chicks that had been hatched from eggs in an incubator, an exercise to entertain the residents at the aged care facility. She had told me she planned to do this, as the chicks would probably be destroyed now that there was no use for them. I voiced my disapproval on the grounds that we didn't have a chook pen and I had neither the time or willingness to build one. A few days later I came home from work and there were two chicks running around on a sheet in the loungeroom. Dear little things they were, no bigger than the palm of your hand. They had accepted the sheet as their safe territory and would not venture off it. When Lib went to bed she put them back in the cardboard box they'd been transported in.

At this point I could have created a "chickens or me scene" but I didn't really fancy packing my bags and taking off. One chick was whitish yellow, the other black, and Lib named them 'Lemon' and 'Myrtle'. The first few days were no problem, the tiny things were happy in their box with an occasional excursion onto their sheet. Lib fed them and cleaned the box, they became accustomed to routine and familiar with people. On the weekend Lib took them outside, the dogs became familiar also and seemed to take up a guardian role. All kosha and endearing.

Quickly they grew. A bigger box for night time in the laundry, days now penned in the vegie garden which has roofing iron sheet walls to keep out rabbits. Soon they started to jump up onto the top edge of the iron and escape, and nylon bird netting and wire mesh was mishmashed over the top to keep them in. When Lib was home she'd let them out and read a book on a blanket while the young birds scratched and explored. Soon they grew too big for the box and confinement at night in the laundry.

It was now my problem to solve. Thanks to google I ordered a portable chicken coup which had a base cost of about $550. Add on $40 for wheels, $40 for feeders, $40 for ramp to second level and nesting boxes, and freight, and the credit card groaned to the tune of over $800. This still seemed expedient compared to buying posts and wire etc and finding the time to build a chook house. Three boxes arrived at the front door one day and after much cursing and trying to decipher the instructions a Saturday was lost before the chickens happily took up residence.

It was now my role to let them out in the morning, move the cage each week, and prepare their 'going to bed' food which I did each weekend, putting 7 lots in recycled Chinese takeaway food containers.
All seemed well, I was looking forward to getting fresh eggs. 'Lemon' was the dominant bird showing signs of protecting 'Myrtle'.

"Roosters can be bastards of things," I said, fearing the worst. Lib said they'd been sexed and were both female.

The crowing started at dawn shortly after. Fully grown he was a magnificent bird. He strutted imperiously about the deck and would come to the widow and let rip with "cock a doodle do" almost shaking the house. It was repeated and repeated, much to my dismay. I apologized to all the neighbours saying I was looking for a home for it. Nobody wanted it. "It has to go," I said to Lib. Having raised them from chicks we felt an attachment. Necking him was not something I relished. I was hoping we'd find a home for him.

One day I was hanging out the washing and a hell of a to do broke out and as I rushed upon the scene there were feathers flying and 'Pip' had 'Lemon' pinned to the ground and was surely about to do him in if I did not intervene. Instinctively, and unfairly as I'm sure she was defending herself, I wacked little dog and berated her so severeley that she became submissive from then on to this feathered bully who delighted at every opportunity to attack her and 'Snowy'. It all became too much for me and I tried to get close enough to 'Lemon' to grab him, but he knew what I was up to and always had one eye on me. I couldn't catch him on the day I chose for the deed when no one was around. The next morning I grabbed him as I let them out, after turning away pretending I wasn't looking. I had dreaded doing it but it was quick and clean and I buried him deep and stuck a sheet of iron over him so fox or dog couldn't dig him up.

Myrtle was then alone, not that she seemed to mind. We bought another black chook and the eggs came in due course. They seemed to want to find a spot in the garden to lay and finding the eggs was a challenge until we put a sheltered nesting box on the deck which did the trick. The new chook 'Henny' stopped laying weeks ago, although I wasn't sure if she was laying in the garden again. I couldn't find a stash of eggs, but maybe currawongs or rats took them. Meredith told me she's put eggs down and seen currawongs steal them, picking them up with their feet and flying off.

Chooks can do this, go "off the lay" when they malt, Elvie told me, particularly black chooks. A small thing like seeing 'Henny' back in the nesting box and the resultant egg, amazes me in the significance it has for me, but in a busy life of constant problems and hassles, it was real joy in our house. 'Henny' is the quieter of the two chooks, 'Myrtle' learned some aggression from 'Lemon' and is head chook, but she lays an egg every day and has not yet had a break "off the lay". And I'm learning more about chooks.