Feathers fly

The introduction of the three new rescued battery hens into our little flock of seven ruffled a few feathers, as predicted.

Hens can be terrible bullies and the gang wasted no time in reminding the new girls of their status in the pecking order. We found that it was the hens with the lowest status in the existing group - Carrie, Charlotte and Scraggedy Anne - that were most determined to harass the new girls (Edna, Patty and Selma). Presumably, they felt that they'd had more than their fair share of being bullied and were desperate to move up the pecking order a little.

Having already exerted her authority over Patty and Selma during their initial week of recuperation away from the other hens, the idea of having to make a stand against a bigger group clearly didn't appeal to Edna. In fact, she seemed quite sorry for herself for the first few days. Despite having had her wings clipped, she somehow managed to escape from the area of the garden where we keep the hens and took herself off to the garden shed in protest.

I hate the whole process of creating a new pecking order but it's part and parcel of the life of a hen. Thankfully, now that a few days have passed, things are starting to calm down and the new arrivals are settling in. They seem content to accept their lowly status and have clearly decided it's just not worth the fight.

When a former work colleague called round for lunch earlier in the week, he was astonished at the notable difference between the appearance of the hens fresh from the battery farm and our existing flock. I don't think he'd realised what a toll battery farming can take on a girl's looks. If only more people had their eyes opened to what the life of a battery hen is really like, I'm convinced that they'd be put off cheap supermarket eggs for good.

Patty checks out the rest of the flock from the safety of the other side of the fence before she and the other rescued battery hens were introduced to the gang.

New arrivals

I've been neglecting my blog a little lately, but I have a good excuse...
I've been preparing for the arrival of, and settling in, our three, new ex-battery hens - Edna Crabapple (II), Patty and Selma. It was the second time that we'd put our names down on the British Hen Welfare Trust's (BHWT) re-homing list; we originally re-homed four ex-battery hens two years ago, three of which (Carrie, Samantha and Charlotte) are still going strong.

Just over a week ago, I received an email to say that our latest batch of hens would be ready for collection on July 15. My husband, Jonny, and I travelled to a farm just north of York on a wet and miserable Saturday morning armed with a cardboard box with air holes punched in the side in which to transport the girls home.

The BHWT runs a very slick operation and proceedings were in full swing by the time we arrived. We'd offered to re-home three hens, but, having recently lost a favourite hen called Edna Crabapple at just a year old to peritonitis, we enquired whether we'd be able to take four. However, we were told that all of the hens were already allocated, which we didn't mind one bit as it's fantastic that so many people are willing to give battery hens a chance of leading a normal life.

When we arrived home, we left the three girls to settle down in our garden shed as we knew they'd be too weak and disorientated to be introduced to the rest of our flock straight away. Hens are notorious for their strict pecking order and can be real bullies, so we felt that our three new girls needed a little time to adjust to free range living first. At first they just stood around looking dazed, but then, if you've only ever seen the inside of a cage, it must be a little daunting to suddenly find yourself out in the big wide world beyond. We managed to persuade them to eat and drink a little; I gave them some plain mashed potato, as well as a little layer's mix, to try to settle their stomachs.

Edna Crabapple (II) is becoming the alpha female of the group

By day two, the hens were showing more interest in the world outside and venturing to the door of the shed. We removed the wire screen from the doorway and encouraged them out into the garden. One hen - the largest one with the most prominent comb - was clearly becoming the alpha female of the group and was the first to begin exploring the garden. We named her Edna Crabapple (II) in honour of our deceased hen. The other two were far less bold and Jonny, sticking with the Simpsons theme, named them Patty and Selma. Poor Patty spent much of her time in the garden hiding in the rhubarb patch and peering out anxiously from beneath the big green leaves.


It's a big, scary world for poor little Patty

On day three, there was a marked improvement in all three hens; not only were they more active when we let them out into the garden, but they were even starting to peck at plants and scavenge between the stones. Having being prevented from indulging in this sort of natural chicken behaviour for so long, it's fantastic to see their instincts return. I really knew they were feeling better when Edna starting munching on the baby carrot plants in my vegetable patch! I'd forgotten that battery hens don't know how to use a nest box and tend to deposit their eggs anywhere, but was reminded when Selma layed right in the middle of the garden!

Selma explores the garden

 They're by no means the prettiest hens - they're all missing quite a few feathers, and their combs are pale and droopy - but it's a real joy seeing them take their first few steps on the road to recovery. In a few days they will be strong enough to join the rest of of our little flock and I'm sure that, under Edna's leadership, they'll ruffle a few feathers! In a few weeks time, they will be looking much healthier and the horrors of their first year of life will be far behind them. If you'd like to rescue a battery hen from her cage, visit: www.bhwt.org.uk/