WATCHING HENS

The heat wave of late July already seems a while ago. Knocked out by temperatures in the upper 20s when we weren’t used to it made for somnolent afternoons spent in the shade of our sturdy Magnolia stellata tree in the upper part of the garden. For some reason which I may come to regret, I let the hens out of their perfectly adequate, spacious and shady orchard, into the wider garden. I reckoned that as there is so much growth in the borders at this time of the year, they couldn’t do any damage and might in fact earn their keep by eating the odd slug or snail. The badly-chewed Hostas certainly needed it!

The hens were delighted to be let out and, clustering around my feet, they went up into the shade with me. They were feeling the heat, gaping and hanging their wings out from their bodies. They spent the whole afternoon keeping to the shade, sipping from the water dish I had given them, and always on the go, poking and pecking at miniscule particles and raking vigorously. From time to time they stopped, straining upwards with one brown reptilian eye on the sky, alert to some strange sound or perceived danger, their usual soft murmurs a little louder, more abrupt and urgent.

 

 The comings and goings of  families of tits and siskins, between the feeders and the branches above them didn’t alarm them, but the sudden appearance and call of one of the jackdaws who nests in the shed chimney close by, alarmed them considerably.

The three of them stayed close together almost all the time and took it in turns to hop up onto our laps or into the wheelbarrow where I had been sorting dried tulip bulbs out of the pots of soil they’d grown in during the spring. The soil was dry and dust bathing or raking for tasty morsels was popular. They spent a languorous half hour or more crowded into the dust bath, lying on their sides, eyes shut and flicking the soil under their wings, over each other and overboard.They were a bit hesitant when hopping down, with a flutter of wings and a rather unsteady landing.

As the heat abated they ventured out of the shade and explored the highways and byways of the nearer parts of the garden. The adventure was such a success for them that we repeated it for the four or five days the heat persisted, and now if we are around, we let them out on other days too. Perversely, although originally quite satisfied with the orchard, they now show a strong preference for the main garden! Have I made a rod for my own back? I am astonished at their avid curiosity and persistent investigations all the time, interrupted only by pauses to dust-bathe or preen. This is also a joint activity. If one fluffs up and start to attend to her feathers, they all do.

 

Looking for Tony.

We are always a little uneasy about them straying into the neighbours' gardens or a daylight visit from Reynard when our backs are turned. We hope our boundaries are hen-proof though we are doubtful about the fox if he's really determined. At least they put themselves to bed at twilight, creeping through the pophole into their pen and going up onto the perch in their house.