The Hens / SUMMER 2023 Makeover – The Campsite
For a few years now, little ornamental hens have joined the members of the family and contribute to the balance of the place. Little « feather hearts », easy to tame and, like the resident cats, subtle whirlwinds to straighten out our self-important humanity. Silkie hens (with feathers as soft as silk – see the video below) and Pekin bantams. All of them deserve their reputation as « mother hens ». They lay a little less, and their mini eggs are irresistible and delicious.
A dilemma soon arose between the delight of collecting the eggs every morning, and even more of savouring them, brushing aside the guilt with handfuls of carefully chosen « organic » seeds. First you could see little crestfallen heads noticing the absence of their treasure during their trusting walk in the garden, since I am part of the flock (all girls, me included). Rather well rated as the matriarch since I bring the grain, I quickly tumbled to the bottom of the pecking order as the thefts went on. Seeing the poultry’s torments, I rushed to buy mealworms for the protein that strengthens the shells and delights the beaks in an unstoppable hullabaloo! Then came the idea of painting hearts in acrylic on a few eggs that would stay, and of forgetting to mention that without a rooster no chicks would come: pink for tenderness towards oneself, fuchsia for the recognition of one’s worth, to clumsily balance the inner torments and regrets of the infamous human. Never mind: they organised a brooding rota, one or two at a time, and delicately pecked at the thieving knuckles, probably hoping to add to the blame… Then came an idea bathed in light: find fertilised eggs of the same breeds at the other end of Belgium and offer them, so that they could experience a successful brooding and their affectionate nature could see a treasure of offspring under their wings. Plans for a state-of-the-art incubator came before the brooding itself – Yin, Yang and me (the human) in the conservatory. Six chicks of an irresistible misty colour were born, delighting our amazed eyes (one never gets used to the beauty of the world). Three roosters went to a student (Christian), with plenty of deposits to share; two little pullets dazzled a family (a couple of students too), whose children grasped the immensity of this adoption responsibility – parasol unfolded after school for each sunny outing from the henhouse. And Grise de Peyne (our last little painter’s pullet, of course) stayed and joined the flock.