Steel Kitten

Body building - for birds and humans!

Oxo when she was very sick

I haven't blogged for a bit because I've been a bit upset about the way things have gone with the chickens.

We've taken advice from a vet, who keeps a large flock of birds, and a local breeder and their advice was to cull all three of the birds we have left, let the pen rest for a few weeks then start again with a good strong flock. Any introduction of new birds could see the old ones catch something from them or vice versa. We've gone so far as finding out that our local poultry centre will do the dirty deed for us and will source a healthy strong set of chickens for us, but we just can't take that last step.

So, two flocks it will be.

I didn't blog about the fact that Dusty became ill and had to go into the bathroom for a few days. She had sour crop and yolk dripping out of her back end - the latter a sure sign of a shellness or broken egg - and I had to bathe her and manually help get this stuff out of her (I won't describe it any further!). At one point she was shooting shell-less eggs straight out from behind her all over us. Lots of care and attention, plus oodles of daktarin gel (which she was trying to eat straight from the tube she liked it so much) sorted out her sour crop.  She's now recovered, and is back out in the garden with the other two on a course of calcium to help her make strong shells.

Marybelle is to be frank just hanging on by a whisker. She doesn't want to eat for no obvious reason I can see, and is clearly missing both Oxo and Georgia-belle. Dusty has not taken over as the dominant, so I think poor Marybelle is feeling very unsettled and not sure which chicken she's supposed to be sucking up to.

Lulu is being just Lulu, still with peritonitis, not laying and a nervous disposition that has her living up to her name and screaming all the time.

At the moment, none of them will touch the layers pellets, layers mash or grain, despite trying different kinds and brands, so we're giving them whatever they show any enthusiasm to eat - cat food, pasta, rice, tomatoes, scrambled eggs, oats, yoghurt, bran flakes, bread, cucumber, cabbage, spinach, couscous etc etc - to try and get them to put on some weight while adding various body building supplements to their water (a product called Game Builder) to ensure they have all the micro-nutrients they need.

We don't care about eggs to be honest. We just want them to live.

***

As for me, my health has been so poor lately I've had to make several serious decisions about my career and my health. The former I can't talk about, but the latter I can.

After seven years the weights bench is back out!

I'm over-hauling my health, but this time getting really serious about it. I eat sugar constantly, I drink endless cups of tea and biscuits, my exercise is sporadic and my vegetable consumption is pathetic. I let far too much stress bother me. In eight months time I will be 40, and I refuse to feel this bad any more.

I'm not working again now until wednesday so I'm cutting down and then out on caffiene so I don't have to go through the headaches while I'm working, and upping my consumption of water from roughly nothing (unless it is in tea) to two litres a day. No sugar of any kind now and no white flour products or alcohol either. I've known for years both upset my entire body - from my digestive system to my blood sugar levels to my hormone systems - far too much to be healthy so they have to go.

Last week I found a brand new bioSnacky sprouting jar one for £1, so that will help with getting raw nutrients into me, and I'm experimenting with making my own set up so I can have a line of jars at different stages of growth ready to eat everyday.

I have never felt as fit or well as when I was about 22/23. At 7am six days a week I weight trained for an hour, and ran four times a week. I ate good quality food, was almost vegetarian because meat was too expensive for my poor student budget, and I weighed 7st 12lb. I fitted into size 8 clothes and I felt good. Now I weigh 12st 2lb, eat rubbish, drink rubbish and put up with rubbish. The only good thing between now and when I was 22 is I don't smoke 20 cigarettes a day.

I realise I'll never be a size 8 again - that's not what I'm striving for - but I do want to go back to be as strong and lean as I used to be.

I want my six pack back.

Oxo has infectious bronchitis :-(

Just when I thought it was safe to clean the bathroom.

Oxo had to be brought in today in a terrible state. She went downhill so fast. Martin said she was a little subdued when she came out of the coop this morning, but nothing to be alarmed about, and by the time I saw her this evening she was terrible.

She has bad respiratory problems, heaving and gasping for breath with a wet chesty rattle and her whole face is puffed up and swollen. She can barely open her eyes. I've managed to make her comfortable, given her some fluids, vitamins, and some painkiller/decongestant which I'm hoping will take the swelling down a bit.

Tomorrow I will pick up a huge vial of medicine from the vet, which he assures me will do the trick in one huge dose. I hope so, she's my favourite and being the boss will be dreadfully missed by us and the other chickens if she goes.

We got her in 2008 when she was about 20 months old, so she's nearly six now. That is incredible for a battery hen and I can't believe she's going to end up done for now in such a horrible way.

She has eaten and drunk which is good, and she's still quite alert and fiesty. I just hope she can relax with all that panting and get sleep tonight until I can get that medicine into her.

I won't get a wink of sleep now knowing she panting in there like that.

Animals. They just break your heart don't they.

EDITED AT 23:09: She just had a heart attack in front of me and died.

:-((

Rest in Peace you little tea stealing moo. We're glad you were with us for so long.

I've burnt my nose

 

After swiping the skirting boards with varnish first thing this morning, I pottered outside in the sun with the intention of drinking a cup of tea and half-heartedly pulling the odd weed until I could go back upstairs and fit the skirting to the wall.

Oh dear.

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

Eight hours later I came in at 5pm absolutely knackered!

Yep, somewhere between drinking the tea and and trying to walk back into the house, my brain made my feet turn left instead of right and I attacked the garden.

I filled my green bin with brambles in less than half an hour and I still have another week to go until it is emptied by the council so the rest of the huge pile at the bottom of the garden will have to wait until then.

I made further inroads into cutting the grass, first strimming as it was so long and then mowing on the highest setting. The chickens are now sporting an attractive green layer in their chicken pen to rootle out the bugs and tidbits from.

Elevenses for me and a warm seat for Fleagle. Like a hobbit, Fleagle had already consumed breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses and brunch by 11:30am. You can see her thinking about her forthcoming lunch...

I cut the grass inside my greenhouse, laid down weed suppressant membrane and piled in some stones. Once the industrial clingfilm arrives, I'll be almost ready to put in some tomatoes.

Before: lots of scrubby grass, and my red, white and blackcurrants and a vine in middle. Each currant plant has its own comfrey plant as a soil nitrogen fixer. I also chop off leaves and lay them round each plant to decompose and release nutrients.

After: grass strimmed then membrane and stones laid down. Two more bags are needed to finish it.

I cut back dead growth from last season's perennials and piled them up to go in the shed for kindling.

I was almost at the end of giving Marybelle a beakicure (a manicure for beaks) as hers was starting to hook over and make picking up grain tough, when suddenly I ran out of steam. Literally, bang. That's my lot. My face was burning just like it does when I get really run down.

Realising I had seriously overdone it I cursed my stupidity all the way back to the house, expecting to see it was around 2pm. Nope, it was almost 5pm.

I'd been out all day in the hot sun with no food or fluids since midday.

I drank a pint of water, scoffed an emergency salmon bagel, then ran a deep bath to scrub myself clean. I carefuly applied ointment to all the various cuts and bumps a good day's gardening usually sustains, including several head lumps (one from a tumbling compost bin that I swung the wrong way and headbutted) and one head cut from smacking it on the shelving rigging in the greenhouse (that's coming down asap).

It was then I noticed my face in the mirror. It was bright red and my nose resembled a Belisha Beacon.

I actually felt a bit relieved - what I thought was chronic fatigue exhaustion was actually normal tiredness from dehydration and the hot face because I was burnt rather than from a dodgy immune system.

Hoorah!

So I'm sitting here now in front of a halogen heater (because I have those chills you get when you've had to much sun) trying to find a cheap watch to wear in the garden so I don't do it again.

Tsk, tsk. No matter how old I get, I never learn.

Most amusingly, Fleagle and Georgie are asleep on the other sofa.

The boundaries are drawn

Until I put the cushion between them, they had both spent the better part of 10 minutes hissing, snapping, growling and generally trying to outstare each other in competition for the whole sofa.

Children eh?

Loving the sun!

I was desperate to get out into the garden and the sun today. I haven't really been out into the garden at all this year, apart from a bit of remedial leaf sweeping and gutter clearing, and the grass desperately needed cutting. It was up to my shins, but I had to leave it dry out a bit in the sunshine today before I could do it.

So, I finished off painting the bedroom. We're both so chuffed by the colour, it seems to suit it no matter what time of day or light you look at the room. So, all that has to be done now is skirting boards (which I'll be varnishing and fitting tomorrow), a new windowsill, the lights and sockets fitted, radiator back on, carpet and curtain pole. Not long now ;-)))

Finally at 3pm I made it outside for the first of several cuts the grass will have. Along the way, I finally maaged to see some of the prettier aspects of the garden that were struggling to make themselves known in spite of the appaling weather lately. The strawberries are flowering...

...the rhododendron...

...the pear tree - yet again promising a mammoth crop...

...the feathery stems of the dill...

...bluebells...

...the nitrogen fixing comfrey, which is enormous and the bees are loving it...

...and finally my favourite, purple sprouting brocolli...

...especially when they're on my plate for dinner that night.

Finally couldn't resist this picture of Georgie in the chicken pen. Every evening we leave the pen door open now so the cats - both our's and the neighbour's - can get in and hunt mice. Georgie has taken to wandering in and checking out the potential for a night's hunt during the day. The mice tend to hide under the dog kennel (you can see the hole they have chewed through in the floor) so he waits, has a sniff, a walk around, another bit of waiting, to see what will pop up. And yes that is carpet! The pen got so waterlogged recently I resorted to covering the worst up flooded bits with carpet to keep the chickens' feet a bit drier and less clogged uncomfotably with mud.

Unfortunately, wirth everything I was doing today I slightly twisted my knee and I've gone all weak and wimbly in that leg!

A bit of elevation and ice does it wonders so it shouldn't be with me for that long.

The bathroom is ours again...

I haven't been up the end of the garden much lately. The chicken dramas of the last few weeks has seen me get only as far as their pen and nowhere beyond, so it was with amazement and a bit of shame really that I hadn't seen my rhubarb patch in all of its splendour before this morning.

And the only reason I did see it was because I was on the hunt for a few fresh dandelion leaves for Marybelle to eat while she is in her temporary residence outside. Yes!! She is finally out of my bathroom, where she seemed to be getting quite depressed and bored, and is now back in with her friends, albeit in a smaller closed off run for a few days. Why? It's become clear that she is being ruthlessly bullied by Oxo and I suspect is the reason why she became ill. She was too scared to eat anything because Oxo has taken to patrolling the food bowls and stopping her.

We have three bowls of layers pellets in corners of the pen, and their treats and afternoon grain gets broadcast far and wide precisely to stop this kind of thing, but it appears that Oxo has put the fear of God into Marybelle to the point where she has become paralysed with fear when she's around, even if she's on the other side of the pen. That's why she's been so ill. She was literally starving to death.

So, yesterday Martin had a brainwave. In the afternoon while I was at work, he took Marybelle up to pen and enclosed her with food and water in the run area of an old coop we no longer use. She was very excited and perked up straight away - tail up and happily scratching. Oxo was apparently furious and patrolled the perimeter trying to get in. When he went out a few hours later, Marybelle was quite clearly distressed again, with Oxo still patrolling the perimeter. He opened the run door to pick up Marybelle and immediately Oxo shoved her way in and tried to be nasty. It wasn't a case of showing her dominance - I've seen that before when I've introduced or reintroduced chickens to the flock - it was literally beak and claws out to cause maximum damage to Marybelle and we won't tolerate that. The pecking order is one thing, but trying to maim and kill another chicken out of spite because she's weaker is something else.

He picked up Marybelle and Oxo started jumping up to try and peck her while he was holding her. One quick shove and Martin had Oxo in the old coop run with the door shut. Then he put Marybelle down and immediately she ran off with her tail up to find her friends Lulu and Dusty. All three greeted one another and then troted off happily into the wilderness area for a good scratch together, well out of eyesight of Oxo.

Oxo, now a prisoner, was beside herself with rage at the turn of events. We took Marybelle back to the house at dusk and let Oxo out, and today we'll do the same thing as yesterday so Marybelle gets to eat in peace and then play with her friends.

Really Oxo has made the decision for us about what to do for the future. We now have to have two flocks - one with Marybelle and one with Oxo. So we're on the hunt for a packing crate to make a temporary henhouse and trying to decide how the split will work. I'm in favour of keeping Lulu, Dusty and Marybelle together, and buying some new chickens - preferably nice big girls that can square up to Oxo - for Oxo to boss around.

That's of course if Oxo remains as the dominant. New girls mean new challenges for leadership and Oxo might not be able to maintain her position as top hen.