Since the very sad and untimely death of Tootsie Idiot Bantam, the remaining three Idiot Bantams - Mollie, May and Magnus - have wandered around the grounds of Damson Cottage as a happy, carefree poulet á trois. Unfortunately, they have also taken to wandering beyond the cottage grounds and into the acres of surrounding fields.
Now, this wouldn’t normally be a problem because they generally remain within view and they always come back to the treehouse tree to roost at night. They particularly enjoy rootling around Vladimir Poo Tin (can’t think why) and in terms of chicken enrichment, they’ve hit the jackpot. I imagine them perambulating the fields singing, ‘Home, home on the (free) range!!’ Magnus’s crowing has certainly been more distant. Which is nice. This is a view of part of their current playground. You can also see the stump of the recently felled apple tree and the manky fence I am in the process of dismantling.
However, there is a problem. A BIG problem. For, despite their advancing years (in human terms they should be menopausal by now), Mollie and May are still laying clutches of eggs. This year so far, Mollie has produced one clutch of 10 eggs which was laid conveniently in their roosting tree so as soon as she started brooding them, I was able to scoot her off and claim them for breakfast. And May has laid two clutches of 6 eggs and 5 eggs. In the potting shed. Again, easily retrieved. But because of Magnus, these eggs would have been fertile. And therein lies the problem.
What if the girls decided to start laying eggs in the field? The chances of finding them would be like looking for the needle in the haystack, and then, horror of horrors, the girls would return with broods of chicks in tow. And then, even more horror of horrors, the chicks would have to be caught and dispatched to chicken heaven because I can’t be doing with the garden being overrun with chickens, especially as the chance of cockerel chick would be 50%.
This would NOT do. I’m still traumatised from having to deal with a nest of baby rats I discovered when I was emptying one of the compost bays a couple of weeks ago. No, after 12 years, my chicken-keeping days are over. Either the two girls would have to go, or Magnus would have to go. Chicken contraception.
One of Andy’s work colleagues offered to adopt all three into her menagerie of many animals. Hurrah and thank you! The bantams were still roaming free. Booo! A cunning plan, then, was hatched (ahem) to catch them…mwahahahaha!
The plan involved the fruit cage and peanuts. A part of the fruit cage was sectioned off…
And a sort of ‘funnelling’ effect was created leading up the door of the fruit cage using some fencing panels. Over a few days, peanuts were left enticingly around the entrance to the fruit cage so the idiot bantams got used to the cage being open and a promise of treats in its vicinity. The idea was to catch them in the sectioned off part of the fruit cage and then…well, we’d cross that bridge when, and if, it arrived.
And this morning, at crack of dawn when I was on the pee and poo run with Nellibobs, the opportunity arrived…
The idiot bantams were loitering around the cage entrance. In a casual manner, I retrieved some bread from the kitchen and, like the evil witch in ‘Hansel and Gretel’ (there she is again - I said I was turning witch, didn’t I?) I laid a trail of breadcrumbs up to, and into the fruit cage. And waited. And the chickens wandered into the fruit cage hoovering up the breadcrumbs and, like a silent Master Ninja Chicken Whisperer Witch, I closed the door on them!
Of course, now we had the bridge to cross. How to get them out of the fruit cage and into something to take them to their new home. Andy’s colleague wasn’t able to receive delivery of them until Sunday afternoon. The fruit cage has tiny gaps in its structure and May is a tiny bantam, little more than the size of an egg herself. The Law of Sod said they would escape somehow in the next two days. Lord Malarkey and I discussed options. Nell said she’d sort ‘em out but that was NOT an option.
A Grand Plan was formulated. Andy would rebuild the Eglu run and I would go into the fruit cage armed with my gardening gauntlets, retrieve the bantams one by one and they would live in Eglu Cottage. And then, on delivery day, they would be transported inside the Eglu! Simple!
Eglu arrangement set up, and into the fruit cage I went. There was a lot of softly, softly chicken whispering from me, and a bit of peanut flinging. There was a lot of flapping and squawking from the idiot bantams but I caught Mollie fairly quickly, by the leg and then quick flick into rugby ball hold. Back I went, this time to go after May. Even if we could just catch the girls, that would be fine. Chicken contraception would be achieved. Magnus could remain here, an elderly bachelor cockerel, keeping the local pheasants company. To be honest, and although Magnus knows who is boss (me), he is still a cockerel with spurs two inches long and very defensive when it comes to Mollie and May. I didn’t fancy trying to catch him in a confined space.
May had other ideas about being caught and she slipped from my grasp and through the tiniest gap and into the main body of the fruit cage. Still confined from the rest of the garden but in the thicket of raspberries canes. Yes, in here. Tiny chicken in the undergrowth alert.
Andy went to get a couple of towels. He thought flinging something over May would be the best method of entrapment. And whilst he was gone, in a spirit of devil-may-care, I said to myself, ‘For goodness sake, Magnus is only a chicken. Just go and get him and be done with it!’
And by the time Andy had returned, Magnus was in the Eglu run with Mollie and I was scratch-free and still in possession of two working eyeballs. Human - 1, Cockerel 0. The adventure continued…
Bravely, Andy ventured forth into the raspberry thicket, towel aloft. ‘I’ll try flushing her towards you!’ he called to the Triumphant Cockerel Wrangler (moi!) also standing with towel aloft. But because he is Big and Brave and had the Towel of Protection for his defence, Knight Andy of the Realm of Damson Cottage (6 feet tall) cornered and caught Lady May of Bantam (eight inches tall) and emerged triumphant from the thicket clutching hen in large bath sheet.
(N.B I am NOT making ANY subtle comments here about who catches what and how in this chicken wrangling partnership. No, I am absolutely NOT!)
The Idiot Bantams, then, are now safely ensconced in the Eglu and run. I feel I’ve come full circle in my chicken keeping adventure. Some of you might remember way back in the day when I started blogging (2008?) and we bought the Eglu along with Mrs Bennet and Mrs Miggins? What adventures, what hens there have been since then. Bennet and Miggins, Mrs Poo, Mrs Slocombe, Mrs Pumphrey. Primrose and Daisy who travelled up to Shropshire with us, and had an exciting trip around Sainsbury’s with Andy to buy some grapes. Then Nellie, Nancy and Nora. And finally, Millie, Mollie, Maggie and May, who turned out to be Tootsie, Mollie, Magnus and May.
Mollie, May and Magnus will go to their new home in a couple of days. And no, that isn’t a euphemism for death. Honestly…
And until then, I shall keep them sweet with treats, to make their confined-to-barracks holiday a bit nicer for them.
Comments