The most interesting things don’t necessarily include involvement of the ponies.
Yes, we’re at the stables where the ponies are, but we have other animals too. The birds are interesting and beautiful – especially the wild ones.
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Crazy Kevin wasn’t beautiful, however and I don’t think I have any pictures of him.
Crazy Kevin occupied one of the stables, rather than co-habiting with any of the other chickens. There was a cockerel with three hens in the caravan and a cockerel with two hens in the horse box and then Crazy Kevin in the stable.
Everyone was scared of Crazy Kevin and rightly so! He was an utter nutter!
Bev had a white cockerel and it escaped. She searched high and low for him and finally gave up. She believed the foxes or rats had got to him and he was a dead-un.
Then, on Facebook, someone said they’d found TWO white cockerels. Bev replied and said she’d lost one and another woman claimed one.
By the time Bev could get to the place holding the cockerels, one had been claimed and taken home. She brought home her white cockerel but it would seem the month or so of freedom had not been kind. It looked like he’d won a few battles during his time in the woods as he had no tail feathers. To survive outdoors, he had to be one tough chicken!
His attitude and demeanour had altered too. Gone was the pleasant, friendly cockerel she remembered. He’d turned into a bit of a beast – well, he had to have toughened up in order to survive, right?
He’d fight with the other two cockerels when before it had all been quite amicable on the yard. Bev had to separate Kevin from the others, hence his new home in an empty stable.
When I started going to the yard, I didn’t see much of Kevin because the door to his stable has a metal gate over the top – it was put there to stop one of the previous horses from escaping, but served to enclose Crazy Kevin. If you looked over the stable door, Crazy Kevin leaped at the metal fence in a flurry of feathers, beak and claws.
It certainly gave us a hit of adrenalin!
I didn’t have to do much with the chickens other than make sure they had water and chuck a scoop of food in with them.
Bev showed me what to do one dark and quiet evening. We made our way to the caravan and I could hear scuffling and squeaking. That’s not the kind of noise I expected from chickens.
“They’re rats,” Bev said. “They’re waiting for me to feed the chickens.”
Ugh.
One Saturday morning, Mia was with us as usual, and Bev asked if I’d feed the chickens. Mia was excited to help because she had chickens before and missed them.
I fed the chickens in the caravan and she took a look at them. Then I fed the chickens in the horse box. “They’re so cute!” she said.
Then I had to check on Kevin. He needed water… The stable door wasn’t in best repair and has sunk on its hinges. You have to lift it to open or close it. And you had to duck under the top door, so you were already unbalanced before you went in.
I opened the door and in a flurry of feathers, that murderous chicken came at me, wings flapping, beak darting, hopping and grabbing at me. I took hold of the water bucket and thought I’d be able to get away clean.
No such luck! The door remember!
I backed out of the door, pushing Kevin with everything I had to hand. The empty food scoop, the half-full water bucket, my foot (I pushed him, I didn’t kick him). The door wouldn’t close and I tried pushing it with my shoulder. It moved a little but caught on an old rug hung over the fence at the side of the stable and wedged the door open. I couldn’t risk the murder-chicken getting loose! I pushed it with my foot, lifting him into the air, to land at the back of the stable and as he landed, his legs were already scurrying to propel him forward for another attack!
Mia was NO help, even though she was a more experienced chicken-wrangler. She was busy laughing her socks off!
I finally managed to shove the door closed without any help from Giggly-Mia. I still had the water bucket to empty, clean and re-fill.
That’s put me right off chickens!
“You were no help, Mia!” I said, also laughing (more with relief that I’d escaped with my life).
Then I put the water back in, I’d made adequate preparations (fail to prepare is preparing to fail) and moved the old rug. I couldn’t do anything about the sunken door, but I did know more of what I was going into. I chucked extra feed in to distract him and in I went.
I had to dodge under the metal gate remember and I believed I was prepared. Again, not so!
Murder-chicken came at me with renewed vigour! I put the water down roughly where it had been before and that damned chicken pecked my fingers!
“OW! Bloody chicken!” He came around the water bucket, ignoring the extra feed and squawking like a mad-thing, I’m not sure if he was trying to escape or going for the kill!
I got out and managed to close the door. I’d like to be able to say I slammed the door but that was impossible. The door scrapes along the rubber matting even now.
Mia was in fits of giggles until I told her it was her turn next time!
