What a difference a day makes

Or even a few hours. And in some cases a few minutes.

Last night I made arrangements to collect the three remaining hens from the last rescue. They were kept behind because they had bruises and broken wings, and needed to recuperate in expert hands.

This morning, I carefully prepared the coop and run. First I covered the ground in chipped bark, then added two different kinds of wood chips (not quite sawdust). I put out some special feed for ex-battery hens to feed them up, filled a water container, put out a dish of grit and one of kitchen scraps. Then I scattered some corn around on the floor. In the nest box I put some straw.

I then got excitedly into my car and went the twenty minutes or so to the house of the woman who was caring for them.

They are in a sorry state, but it's already possible to see how much they must have improved. They are beginning to feather up, and are gaining movement in their wings as they mend. Apparently they couldn't even walk when they arrived, and didn't know how to forage, or even to cluck. The bruises are all but gone, and no longer seem to be causing pain.

So we gathered up Rosie, Poppy and Daisy and I brought them home. Within a few seconds, the pristine chicken run had been transformed into a jumble of bark, chips, food and grit as they kicked everything everywhere and foraged through it. Meanwhile, the water pot had filled with sawdust and I doubted the girls would ever find the water underneath.


I've been out here with them all afternoon, and the biggest excitement came when I found that some worms had invaded the bag of compost I opened to plant up my tomatoes. One by one, I fed them to the hens, and they were ecstatic. They are still rummageing around now hoping to find some more.