Haarlem Reset
In the Brooder
Well, I am new to chickens and am going through a learning curve. A rooster arrived on a property I bought so that I could live on the same property as my two horses. Then I was given two hens to keep Matt company. I called them the Chook-Chooks. They are free range, and all three slept in the apricot tree until Agatha hatched five Pheep-Phweeps, and then another six I call the Chicaroos. Now, except for Iris who joined the flock when here friend disappeared (her and friend would visit every day but seemed to belong to no one and nested in a field over the road at night) sleep in the coop I constructed in such a way that the light-fingered locals would find it difficult to steal and pot them. I eat eggs but not chicken.
Anyhow, because Agatha and Bertha were sitting on eggs, Agatha in the coop and Bertha under a bush, Matt would visit hens all over the show, and was annihilated by a car. The people were kind enough to bring him back because they heard me call him at five in the evening, and he would duly return to spend the night alone in the tree. To say it broke my heart is an understatement. I never realized one could become so attached to a chicken.
To cut a long story short, I have ended up with 17 chickens, including Iris and her single chick who currently reside in the ruin on the property. I never realized chickens were so much work. Because Bertha nested on the ground, and the ground was cold, she hatched one egg, and then almost pecked the poor thing to death. I almost had to teach her how to be a good mother; the chick survived, and now they are inseparable. Then I walked past the coop and heard Bertha wheezing. Googled and found this site, and the bread soaked in olive oil seemed to work, but I also noticed some of their chests were rattling. That meant a course of antibiotics all round over three days. However, Carl (a rooster that looks a lot like Matt and is from Agatha's first brood (the Phweep-Phweeps) is struggling to recover--he is weak, tripping over his own feet, and today I noticed he was trying to crow but there was no sound, and then he would scratch his head vigorously. My feeling from the beginning was that his condition was neurological, and I found the answer on this site. I think he imbibed a toxin of some sort. The ground I bought was in a terrible state. I think the national sport among the locals is breaking glass, and in rehabilitating and trying to grow pastures for my horses, besides picking up shards of glass, I have dug out old batteries and got the distinct whiff of car oil. I did take him into the house for a night and tried to feed him activated charcoal, but they are are motley crew who instinctively understand humans in this area are predators, so how much activated charcoal he imbibed is anyone's guess. I did not what to end up hurting him by prizing his beak open. He is still eating and turning over the horses turds, but as a I say, apart from the others.
So, that's my story. Sorry if it rather long, but it is important to understand that I am a chicken owner by default rather than choice, and like I said, on a learning curve.
Anyhow, because Agatha and Bertha were sitting on eggs, Agatha in the coop and Bertha under a bush, Matt would visit hens all over the show, and was annihilated by a car. The people were kind enough to bring him back because they heard me call him at five in the evening, and he would duly return to spend the night alone in the tree. To say it broke my heart is an understatement. I never realized one could become so attached to a chicken.
To cut a long story short, I have ended up with 17 chickens, including Iris and her single chick who currently reside in the ruin on the property. I never realized chickens were so much work. Because Bertha nested on the ground, and the ground was cold, she hatched one egg, and then almost pecked the poor thing to death. I almost had to teach her how to be a good mother; the chick survived, and now they are inseparable. Then I walked past the coop and heard Bertha wheezing. Googled and found this site, and the bread soaked in olive oil seemed to work, but I also noticed some of their chests were rattling. That meant a course of antibiotics all round over three days. However, Carl (a rooster that looks a lot like Matt and is from Agatha's first brood (the Phweep-Phweeps) is struggling to recover--he is weak, tripping over his own feet, and today I noticed he was trying to crow but there was no sound, and then he would scratch his head vigorously. My feeling from the beginning was that his condition was neurological, and I found the answer on this site. I think he imbibed a toxin of some sort. The ground I bought was in a terrible state. I think the national sport among the locals is breaking glass, and in rehabilitating and trying to grow pastures for my horses, besides picking up shards of glass, I have dug out old batteries and got the distinct whiff of car oil. I did take him into the house for a night and tried to feed him activated charcoal, but they are are motley crew who instinctively understand humans in this area are predators, so how much activated charcoal he imbibed is anyone's guess. I did not what to end up hurting him by prizing his beak open. He is still eating and turning over the horses turds, but as a I say, apart from the others.
So, that's my story. Sorry if it rather long, but it is important to understand that I am a chicken owner by default rather than choice, and like I said, on a learning curve.
If you provide the proper housing, runs, nesting areas, it should all get easier. Chickens are fun to keep and will reward you with great joy if given the opportunity!
