The girls (and Darcy) adore bananas. I have just been to give them a treat. I get massacred. They tread on my feet! They eyeball me!
When I open the back door, the key jangles in the lock. They know that sound. They are ready and expectant. We now have 16 chickens. All of them have names and they all have different personalities. A good flock is about 12. The reason for this is body language. Whoever heard of body language in a Chicken? Well, it is true. Watching them, you get to understand their level of security. Hens have levels of alertness, characterised by their movements, such as the way they crane their necks and the way they stick together or not. Over the years, we have found that when there are about twelve, with a cockerel who is reasonably in control, they are relaxed. They are much more casual and tend to go into their own little worlds. Less than twelve, and you get a lot of nervous looking about and craning of necks.
Our girls roam free. They do not leave the estate because they have no need to. We have had three fox attacks. Many have been killed or left half dead. But they have a great life. They do as they wish and they have a great relationship with me and Mrs Weasel. If you are in the slightest doubt that these creatures should be treated to freedom and dignity, just spend some time with us and watch.
I said that they all have names. Except one. The one in the picture does not have a name because young master Weasel insisted on naming this new one, a wheaten Marans, and then found he was too busy to think one up.
So over to you. Any suggestions - name that chicken!
Posted by Wrinkled Weasel on Thursday, March 12, 2009