The "Gwen de la Gwen" of Chicken Corner

Post 2-year sabbatical, Chicken Corner (CC) is back with pizzazz. But just to be clear, throughout this time CC has functioned as normal and no dramatic changes in scheduling or numbers have occurred. Many “good times” have been had and it is with the biggest regret, readers were not kept “in the loop”.

Let’s not dwell on that though! Instead, we’re kickstarting with a celebration of our well-loved guinea fowl, Gwen, because.. why the hell not! Gwen arrived in the orchard some years ago with a cacophony of sound and a flurry of feathers. Those familiar with the radiant façade and chatter of guinea fowls will appreciate that CC’s sound/land-scape immediately transformed beyond the borders of Norfolk, to the depths of sub-Saharan Africa! For Gwen’s ancestors originated in West Africa from the helmeted guinea fowl (according to wikipedia).

In fact it was the sound that finally helped identify the gender. Turns out Gwen isn’t a female as first thought during the formal naming ceremony.. the (very) repetitive, shrill cries were hard to interpret at first, but then the mating dances around the hens and general protective nature began to serve as important clues – he was in fact a male guinea fowl. "Glen" would perhaps be more appropriate?

During Spring, Summer and Autumn, Gwen spends his dreamy nights perched in the Rowan tree overhanging the large chicken shed. His evening ascent is grand; one evening I was so concerned by the onslaught of noise I sprinted outside (halfway through my meal), fearing the worst. Luckily no fox! Just Gwen confirming his watchman’s station. His early morning descent is equally ostentatious, using the roof of the shed as a stepping-stone. With one final cry, he swoops down to greet the morning dew and speedy legs propel him around the orchard, shooting this way and that! oh how excited he is to see all his chickens every single day! (Your director and manager doesn’t like to pass judgement, but on this occasion it feels apt – Gwen’s adoring feelings towards the hens are not reciprocated. They dart straight for the food: pecking, scrapping and vocalising in long-drawn-out clucks – clearly not the behaviour of a romantic novel).

But Gwen’s love and need to protect “his” hens is infinite, unperturbed by their lack. He chases off Peggy the terrier (when she braves it into the orchard with GJH Rainey, fearing for her own life infact) as well as bullying / “putting in their place” the male youths of today in CC. Only recently a new 3-month old Maran X Light Sussex cockerel arrived, left in a small enclosure to get him used to his new home. Daily Gwen would taunt him, racing up and down the wire, pecking and clucking. Somewhat a distraction until morning feeding whereupon the hens were released from their sheds and Gwen dashed off to greet them, leaving the innocent youth alone!

A Christmas Round-Robin

Seasons Greetings to one and all! Your favourite director and manager here reporting from none other than the most infamous orchard in the UK: Chicken Corner.

I know, I know.. you’ve been on tenterhooks since July.. sleepless nights checking your inbox.. or refreshing Instagram and facebook feeds just for a mere snippet of Chicken Corner shenanigans! Well stand up and praise be, friends, for your wish it my command - A magnificent feast for your imagination awaits! A little Christmas round-robin if you will, of the higher- and lower- lights of this latter half of 2021. And trust me, you won’t want to miss out!

To start on a positive note, since last we spoke, the drake has re-ignited the flame with his call duck spouse AND warmed to his two blossoming daughters (almost ready for society, if this were an episode of Bridgerton). Not sure what has changed in this little drake’s head, but for dramatic effect I put it down to time. Time is always a healer. You might wonder.. but when was this creature wounded?! Well viewers, our drake is a sensitive soul – he’s experienced much unrequited love due to nurtured misfortune.. his tactic to chase hens and grip onto feathers for dear life never quite worked the ticket and more often than not, resulted in a defensive attack from Gwen the guinea fowl (sex/gender still undefined). To top this, the (unknowing) love of his life, the white female call duck, only went and took her wife and attentive mother duties to unexpected new limits (aka producing heirs) and put his nose out of joint. The initial shock of MORE creatures that enjoyed water unsettled him, however, time, as I’ve said previously, has power to heal these metaphorical lesions and he’s very much excelling!

Alternatively and less theatrically, his behavioural shift lies in hormonal changes. By this I mean, we’re well into winter now, a month defined for its non-sexual acts. Thus his drive for hens has subsided and left us with the chilled out, family man we see today! P.S. He still takes dry baths on the grass though…. Time can’t cure every vice it seems..

On another note, we said goodbye to certain members of “The Corner” this Autumn. From pullets sent off in cardboard boxes gripped tightly by budding young poultry enthusiasts, to outnumbered cockerels hoovered up by a local “mate”, as well as the mixture of trios, pullets and mother and chicks entered into the Swaffham poultry Market Saturday sale in November.. You’d have thought numbers would have depleted tenfold, but it doesn’t appear to be the case according to post-surveillance report dated December 2021. So seriously, any takers for POL pullets, hit me up!

Death of course comes to us all, it is one of two certainties in life – the other, taxes, I don’t burden the minds of our members with, there are too many worms to search for on a daily basis for that kind of insolence! We lost a couple of retired OAPs this year due to natural causes and unforeseen happenings (e.g. knocked out by a descending plank of wood).. emphasis on “unforeseen”.. health and safety checks have been completed since this incident occurred to prevent similar events in the future.

Not to disrespect the lives of those listed above, but the death which took ample time to come to terms with (4 months to be exact considering I’m now writing about it) was the sad and unapologetically brutal passing of top Burberry model Buff Orpington hen (unnamed disappointingly for the eulogy). Thankfully she now rests peacefully in the orchard with a DIY cross (she was always very religious, just like the guinea pigs) defining her plot.

Yet on the definitive day of passing, the rain had poured down. This aged, blind hen had positioned herself strategically under the left rear wheel of the VW polo for protection from these elements. Your very own director and manager who voices this tale, at the time, got into that car for her biannual trip to the post-office. Without 360-degrees checks of the vehicle, she got in and started the engine (How could should naïveté grasp her so?!).. Mirrors and seat adjusted. The handbrake went down and with the gear in reverse, she put her foot on the accelerator. It is most unnecessary for me to recount in detail, the events of that afternoon - it simply does not require such discourse. Dickens, I’m sure, would heartily agree.

Finally, to round off the year in style and come full circle (such curvature!), the poultry world has gone into another wonderful cluckdown with avian flu running rife. Outdoing their human counterparts, Chicken Corner are obliging courteously for the good of all birds out there.. but understandably cannot wait to be out and about once again. Here’s hoping for a freeing and healthy 2022. See you on the other side, chicks!

Much love x

Against All Odds

With levels of reproduction breaking the “procreation” scales, this Summer at Chicken Corner has proved quite extraordinary. This month’s edition places a special eagle-eyed focus on our call ducks that dared to defy convention!

So we begin the enigmatic tale.. 30 years on from when Phil Collins’ hit release Against all Odds first graced our ears, yet it couldn’t feel more apt in describing Chicken Corner’s July miracle (even to the point when we’re asking - was Phil actually foreshadowing this event?): the birth of two call duck ducklings.

Of course from an outsider’s perspective, this might seem ever-to-slightly melodramatic, HOWEVER, as many viewers understand in the historical context of the orchard, this is truly incredible!

To elaborate just a bit.. not only was our call duck hatching P.B. at a pitiful record of 1 (over the full course of our 18 year history), but in fact the drake to the best of our knowledge was asexual with a preference on occasion for his lesser water-inclined feathery neighbours. On the latter point alone, as Director & Manager, I had accepted the impossibility of call duck offspring.

As a result and to further intensify the EXTRAordinary nature of this situation, in the months leading up to the big crack, the female had taken herself off to nest deep in the day-of-the-triffid-style stinging nettles. With her best interests at heart, on certain nights I would remove her from the nest and place her in the safety of the duck-house. We couldn’t risk losing her to the fox, she was just too precious and cute..

For those viewers who aren’t familiar with the importance of “incubation etiquette” please read on. To ensure a fertile duck egg hatches, continuous incubation (duck sitting on the egg) needs to take place for 4-weeks (28 days). The mother does of course leave the nest every now and then throughout this period to drink, feed and pass the necessaries – promptly returning to provide the well-needed heat, moisture and egg turning to bring on hatching :) So viewers, it will come as no surprise that a full 12-hours away from the nest would surely halt all chances of that happening?!

Yet here we are today, the white female duck stands before me with her two extremely large ducklings (aged 4-weeks old), one a miniature of the father and the other a murkier dilution of both parents.

Recently re-introduced to their father in the main duck enclosure, they took to the sandpit pond like ducks to water (terrible pun.. way too obvious!) and to cut a long babbling story short, as the mother and babies charged towards the pond, the drake shot out in the opposite direction! ..and there’s been stalemate ever since. It’s the strangest behaviour to observe: during their time apart (so the babies could grow safely) he couldn’t be more attentive; at the fence chattering away to them all day every day..

But perhaps when it comes to “A period of separation” creatures can go two ways:

1. Absence makes the heart grow fonder

2. Isolation is bliss and the “isolatee” realises they made a terrible mistake in consummating the waterfowl marriage..

I suppose we’ll never really know what is going on in that little drake’s head.. all I know is he will never cease to surprise us here at Chicken Corner with his eccentric ways!

Bye chicks x