So, you know about these little guys, right?
Redford and Newman, the stupid little chickens we love so much. We were quite happy with two chickens. Bantams are more for ‘novelty value’ than egg production, according to my excellent chicken rearing book, A Chicken In Every Home.
They are pretty novel. Newman, AKA Godzilla, and her special little trousers. Redford, my favourite, sitting on your knee, as tame as a dog.
Speaking of dogs, it’s with great sadness that we’ve just been turned down for the role of Guide Dog puppy walkers. Apparently blind people live in cities, not the countryside, so no puppies need training out here in the country. I’m devo, for I’d have liked a free puppy that I could have replaced with another free puppy a year later. (While helping blind people, obvs.)
We thought it sensible to compensate for the lack of free puppies by buying a new chicken.
Enter… Chalky White.
Look at her silly little face. It had been raining when we took this picture, so she is a bit bedraggled. Usually she’s more dignified.
A Polish bantam, she’s got so much hair in her face she can’t really see where she’s going. She also can’t see me coming up to pick her up, so she doesn’t run off. Ha. Stupid chicken.
We put her in the pen and followed all the instructions for introducing a new chicken to your flock, if you can call Redford and Newman a flock. We hoped Redford would get all maternal and welcome the new bird with open wings. No. That did not happen. What happened was Redford lunged at her and took a massive chunk of feathers out of her. She’s so tiny and beautiful, the poor little thing looked traumatised.
How best to deal with this tricky initiation process?
That’s right. We went back to the breeder and adopted again. Behold, Nucky Thompson:
A slighty different colour Polish bantam. But equally as stupid.
Here she is hugging herself:
These two fall over each other in their constant bid to scramble here, there, everywhere. Redford is easing off them now and they’ve formed their own splinter group, which I guess we should call the Boardwalkers. They don’t seem to lay eggs, but hey, since when did rearing chickens have anything to do with having home hatched eggs for breakfast.
So there we have it – 100% more chickens than we had a week ago. 100% more chicken poop in the garden.