First Impressions

All this week I have been popping down to the allotment in the evening to feed the chickens. I am pleased to report that Gertie tends to eat considerably more in the evening feeds. Sometimes even polishing off another half bowl of food, leaving her crop so full that one more pellet or piece of corn would cause it to explode. Added to this, she continues to be able to work her way around the coop fairly well. The only sign that something might be amiss is that she keeps hiding in the nest box.

When I arrived after work this evening, I discovered Gertie on the top of the highest perch with a mangled rear end. I have absolutely no idea what has happened to her. Fortunately, I had the required chicken medical supplies in the shed. Ticking her under my arm, I dashed up to the shed and had a good look at the damaged area. Gertie insisted on turning in circles which made examining her more difficult. From the glimpses that I managed to catch as she rotated, she had a wound on her lower back, above the vent. Her vent looked undamaged and the wound had partially scabbed over. I washed the area as best as I could and gave her a spray with purple spray to stop the others pecking her.

When I put her back into the nest box, there were some inquisitive faces coming to see what was happening. One of these was Ginny. Ginny has definitely been at the bottom of the pecking order in the new coop for weeks. Sensing her opportunity to climb the greasy pole, she kept pecking at poor Gertie. Once one chicken has started on another, the others tend to join in. I refused to let an injured blind chicken be bullied by the others in the coop. The only difficulty in extracting Gertie was that she had wedged herself into the back corner of the nest box and I couldn’t reach her. Even if I had arms like Mr Tickle, I would have struggled to get a safe hold of her. This meant I would have to brave the Wall of Nettles.

The Wall of Nettles is a towering barrier which must be scaled in order to access the nest box door. This would be relatively straightforward but for the fact I was wearing shorts and flipflops. With the certainty of being stung if I didn’t come up with a plan, I pondered how to defeat the nettles. Then I remembered, in the main coop, there were two plastic trays. I could stand on one which would flatten some of the nettles, then put the other tray down in front of the one I was standing on. In this way, I managed to get to the nest box door without a single sting. Triumphantly, I threw open the nest box door and extracted Gertie.

Getting back was more of a challenge. I had Gertie in one hand, leaving me with only one hand to move the trays. It was a struggle and I was relieved that no one was around to see this ridiculous spectacle! I quickly realised that I didn’t have a pet carrier at the plot anymore so I would have to walk home holding Gertie. It’s not like I haven’t walked to and from the allotment holding chickens before, most memorably with Roxy on my shoulder. Typically, Gertie didn’t want to be held and ended up perching on my hand wobbling dramatically as I walked along. To say I got some strange looks from drivers as I waited to cross the road was an understatement. What I didn’t reckon on was meeting the new neighbours covered in purple spray, dust and bedraggled with an injured chicken on my arm.

Pausing only to wonder what my husband would think of having another special needs chicken in the garden, I bundled myself through the front door after hurriedly saying hello and apologising for the chicken. I definitely left a memorable first impression on the new neighbours…