If you have been following my blogs and FB posts, you would have no doubt cottoned on to the saga, re my chooks. I had four stroppy girls, who for the most part were producing enough eggs to keep my larder full and some leftover for swapping and giving away. Yes, the home baking used up a few too. You may also have noticed that I 'introduced' two new girls to the flock a few weeks ago, WITHOUT doing any research about how that should be achieved,
A one-sided war resulted and it was UGLY to watch. Feathers flew and prisoners were taken. The absconding rate sky-rocked, to the point, that every time I wandered into the backyard, there was one or both of the new hens, high-stepping around the garden, in the belief that they had escaped their tormentors. I returned them to their 'new family' and war resumed,
I sought advice and 'toughened up,' as hens will be hens and the term, 'pecking order,' has a real basis in the animal kingdom. (Yeah, I know---humans do a pretty damned good job, emulating that too!) I came home from shopping a few days ago and a very sad sight met me as I entered the yard.One of the 'newbies' was trapped in a corner, from where she had been trying to escape her mean-beaked upper echelon torture mistress. (Hell, that could make her money in some darker corners of the human world!)
'ENOUGH is ENOUGH!' I yelled, sounding like a group of black-shirted cult followers, as seen on the news,' (Kiwis will get that) I acted immediately and instituted a new regime: SEPARATION, 'Chooky style.' The two new girls were returned to their smaller, but safer area, whereby, 'research' tells me that they should remain, for two reasons. It may be too late re one factor; quarantine, in case they had some unwanted disease, and two---let them get used to one another and then in about two weeks, let the new ones out very early one morning, before the older ones arise. I thought my brother was having me on when he suggested that.
I have a 'third strategy.' Today, Perdy and I will be taking all six hens to the movies. We are going to see a very clever New Zealand made short film about the 'world of hens.' We hope to garner a new understanding of the antics and quirks of our 'feathered egg producers.' We hope to show them that 'their generous enclosure does not need to be a war zone.' We shall follow up the film viewing with a therapy session, where I shall use all of the skills I have learned over the years in my 'professional life' as a counsellor. Yes, we will use 'Narrative Therapy, CBT and finally a Restorative Justice session. If the former strategies do not work, I shall employ 'roasting therapy,' or perhaps a little 'crockpot solution with spices, therapy.'
There is, of course, the issue of how I shall smuggle all of the participants in this scenario, into the theatre. I think I need to create a diversion at the entrance of the cinema and while that is being investigated, the hens, Perdy and I shall enter. The fact that I have a rather large wiggling, clucking bag and a Jack Russell, cleverly disguised as an elderly, very small old lady with spectacles, should be negated by the diversion.
I suspect that Thames has had its share of unusual happenings in the past, so this one, should find its place in the 'Halls of Fame,' and me---well-----one has to seek 'outside the box' solutions to vexing problems.' If we get caught---Perdy has promised to 'eat the evidence!'
A one-sided war resulted and it was UGLY to watch. Feathers flew and prisoners were taken. The absconding rate sky-rocked, to the point, that every time I wandered into the backyard, there was one or both of the new hens, high-stepping around the garden, in the belief that they had escaped their tormentors. I returned them to their 'new family' and war resumed,
I sought advice and 'toughened up,' as hens will be hens and the term, 'pecking order,' has a real basis in the animal kingdom. (Yeah, I know---humans do a pretty damned good job, emulating that too!) I came home from shopping a few days ago and a very sad sight met me as I entered the yard.One of the 'newbies' was trapped in a corner, from where she had been trying to escape her mean-beaked upper echelon torture mistress. (Hell, that could make her money in some darker corners of the human world!)
'ENOUGH is ENOUGH!' I yelled, sounding like a group of black-shirted cult followers, as seen on the news,' (Kiwis will get that) I acted immediately and instituted a new regime: SEPARATION, 'Chooky style.' The two new girls were returned to their smaller, but safer area, whereby, 'research' tells me that they should remain, for two reasons. It may be too late re one factor; quarantine, in case they had some unwanted disease, and two---let them get used to one another and then in about two weeks, let the new ones out very early one morning, before the older ones arise. I thought my brother was having me on when he suggested that.
I have a 'third strategy.' Today, Perdy and I will be taking all six hens to the movies. We are going to see a very clever New Zealand made short film about the 'world of hens.' We hope to garner a new understanding of the antics and quirks of our 'feathered egg producers.' We hope to show them that 'their generous enclosure does not need to be a war zone.' We shall follow up the film viewing with a therapy session, where I shall use all of the skills I have learned over the years in my 'professional life' as a counsellor. Yes, we will use 'Narrative Therapy, CBT and finally a Restorative Justice session. If the former strategies do not work, I shall employ 'roasting therapy,' or perhaps a little 'crockpot solution with spices, therapy.'
There is, of course, the issue of how I shall smuggle all of the participants in this scenario, into the theatre. I think I need to create a diversion at the entrance of the cinema and while that is being investigated, the hens, Perdy and I shall enter. The fact that I have a rather large wiggling, clucking bag and a Jack Russell, cleverly disguised as an elderly, very small old lady with spectacles, should be negated by the diversion.
I suspect that Thames has had its share of unusual happenings in the past, so this one, should find its place in the 'Halls of Fame,' and me---well-----one has to seek 'outside the box' solutions to vexing problems.' If we get caught---Perdy has promised to 'eat the evidence!'
