Fowl Play

On March 12 I chatted about the arrival of our new chicken, a Bluebell something-or-other who we named Trixi. The Hubby chose her.

Usually when considering something new or a change within the home, one of us raises it, we then discuss it and put forward each of our views, the Hubby then steps back and lets me have my way.

There has been the rare occasion when I have either given in or graciously said "You choose Darling." For example, I have always wanted a Rowen tree both  to remind me of Scotland and because I love the way their berries seem to glow in the Autumn sun. Finally we went to buy one.

It came down to two, one of which I preferred, the other of which the Hubby liked. Both were slightly different species of Rowen. Feeling generous I agreed to go with the Hubby's preference, even though I had pointed out to him that there were no signs of his preferred choice having had blossom on it and, therefore, it may not produce berries.

Four years on I had a chap dig it up and bung it in the front garden just to break up the open space as this thing steadfastly refused to blossom or berry. So much for the years of wanting a Rowen!

Same thing with our house. When were looking round at properties he kept showing me a picture of a house in another town and I kept refusing to go look at it, pointing out the brick box nature of it (as well as the town it is in). You have to bear in mind that we were moving on from our first house, a 150 year old cottage which I loved with all my heart. I wanted either something very similar or at least a house with some character.

Eventually I gave in and we went to view the place we now live in. Although the house was a brick box, the garden was a very good size and had lots of potential due to the fact that it was just grass and cheap pebbles at that time. One side looked over open fields (as has every home I have ever lived in) and there was even a walker's trail running past the back of it. The (then) owners told us about the trail leading to woodland and the river which runs nearby. The hubby pointed out that we would simply treat it as a short term stepping stone for a couple of years, then we would move back to an older property (house prices at that time were always going up). Thinking of the garden, our dog Bryn and the cats, I agreed.

Seven years on, still here. Waiting for some kind of long term house market recovery but with a new government in situ who have only ever previously evidenced massive rises in interest rates and so in mortgage rates, vast numbers of homes re-possessed, increased employment insecurity etc. I would love to trust it will be different this time, but the signs aren't there yet so it seems we're still stuck here.

So now we are looking for a chicken and Trixi is presented to us.

I had been very clear that I did not want either a black or a white chicken. The Hubby and the seller pointed out her lovely black markings amongst her dark grey (I wasn't as impressed as they appeared to be). My main concern was that our new family member should be a breed that is known to be placid, friendly and to quickly become tame.

Back to the present..... Trixi is growing, boy is she growing. I don't know how old chickens are when they stop growing, but I hope it's soon. I swear she is some kind of chicken/emu cross-breed.

She is being willful and sometimes refuses to play the role of Drew's baby, leaving little Drew frustrated and upset. Even worse, she keeps wandering off with our ex-battery chicken, Harmony. Drew visibly becomes anxious when she can't see where Trixi is.

Trixi is also a sprinter, she has long powerful legs and she can really motivate. Very recently she has added in wing flapping and when she takes off she actually looks like she's flying, unlike normal chickens.

I have also noticed that Trixi likes to be high up, sitting on logs and branches which put her much higher than Harmony and Drew, again worrying little Drew.

She does not like having to spend time in the chicken run, she thinks she should always be allowed the free run of the whole garden.

When I go to get the girls up in a morning, she has now begun to barge past the other two to be first out of the hen house. On top of all this, she seems to have become very territorial.

She has decided that she has no wish to share her garden with the wild birds who regularly come to feed and also nest there so the majority of her garden time is devoted to racing towards any wild bird who dares to try to land anywhere at all in the garden. She doesn't just take them on in one's either, not our Trixi. Bring on the flock, she'll have 'em all!

For the dozens of birds from a wide range of varieties who visit daily it has definitely become a case of "Bugger the Sparrowhawk, watch out for that bloody chicken..."

I blame the Hubby (and obviously myself for stupidly letting him decide). I also blame Trixi herself for not reading and complying with the rules of her breed.

What placid and friendly nature?? Tell that to the Yellowhammers..

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