by Hazel Griggs
read 17th October 2015 in Orpington
I used to love looking at my day old chicks snuggled under their infra red heater every Spring. They were in The Lodge a building next to my kitchen. It was easy to go down my three kitchen steps into the back yard and into the next door. They stayed there for six weeks.
However this time one of the chicks would notice me and would leave the heater to come up to me. Instead of being pure black like the other chicks it had a few brown feathers round its neck. I did not really notice it at that time, I was probably cooking lunch and just taking a few minutes to check that no chick had strayed too far away from the heater. As they grew older and stronger they would move away from the heater naturally.
When the chicks first arrived they would be snuggly packed into a small box where they could keep warm. Newly hatched they did not need food, the egg that they left that morning had provided enough nourishment. Their first meal was a very fine grit which would fill their gizzard to help them digest food. They ran about eagerly picking up all the grit with their little beaks.
Their next meal was tiny pellets of nourishing food, they were always provided with clean water. One day I found a dead chick, horrified I notified the authorities and an inspector came to find the cause, having fifty day old chicks meant I had to notify them. I was very relieved to hear that the cause of the loss of my little chick was that mice had entered the Lodge from my next door neighbours and frightened the chick away from the heater. The inspector became a good friend, very interested in the way I kept my chicken and often called.
When the chicks were six weeks old and not requiring heat they were transferred to an Ark outside in the orchard. This was covered with mesh, and one end was their sleeping quarters. The Ark was moved daily to fresh grass, when they were older at three months they were allowed to safely run about outside the Ark. However the orchard was divided into pens by a tall fence so that no fox could harm them. Also they were carefully locked in at night to make sure they were safe from foxes.
At the age of eight months and at the point of lay, when they would soon be laying eggs they were transferred to the deep litter house. I was so lucky to buy the house, I saw the advert and very early in the morning drove to the address, it was just the right size for fifty laying hens. The kind man even paid for it to be delivered to me. I was also lucky that a very kind electrician friend fixed up all the electric system. I needed electric lights for night time inspections of the hens. Also I would carry my vacuum cleaner in to dust the ledges once a month.
The deep litter house had about a foot of wooden shavings, called litter. These I collected free from one of my husbands Councillors about every three months. They remained clean but gradually diminished, needing a top up sometimes. the Councillor saved the best white shavings and helped me put them in my sacks to carry them.
The deep litter house had automatic water and feed systems, my Inspector friend said that it was the best running deep litter system in Kent. Also he said being a woman was an advantage because the chicken remained calm producing an egg each a day. whilst entering twice a day to collect the eggs and make sure the chicken which I called my girls were alright I noticed one of them would come up and follow me. I realised it was the same chicken with a little brown feathers around its neck, I called her Twinkle, she always kept close to me and I would pick her up and stroke her under her neck.
One of my daughters friends, Victoria wanted a chicken so I gave her one and told her how to feed it, they had a large shed with an opening for it go in and out. A perch was made inside for it to sleep. I found that my chicken would choose the same position on their perches every night, this made it easy if I needed to pick up one examine it.
I could tell if they were laying eggs.
One day I had a phone call from Victoria, her chicken was unwell, I told her to bring it to me to see if I could make it better. However after about a week it sadly died, I did not tell Victoria this but gave her Twinkle, Explaining that the brown feathers on her neck were due to the medicine.k
Thirty years later which was a very long time, I heard that Twinkle was still alive. I drove over to see her, she heard my voice and came running to me. She was still laying an egg a day, but it was a soft egg, with no shell, she was allowed to eat it. I wished I had a camera to remember this remarkable Twinkle.