Horticultural

Chicken keeping: dos, don'ts and should Is?

I’ve been researching chicken keeping for over four years now and I still haven’t taken the plunge.

I could easily buy one of those cheap flatpack coops off the web, or splash out on an Eglu if I’m feeling flush. So what’s holding me back? I’m convinced of the benefits of back garden chickens: endless supplies of rich manure to boost my compost heap, the entertainment of watching the birds, teaching my children the responsibility of looking after animals, and of course the fresh eggs.

It’s the downsides I am worried about - greedy chooks trashing my veg patch, the ever-present threat of fox attacks, and the extra drudge of feeding and coop cleaning on top of the domestic demands of looking after two kids under five, for starters. And the myth that I am going to save money keeping hens is quickly dispelled by adding up the setup costs: hundreds of pounds for a decent coop and run, not to mention the cost of feed. (From my years of research one good piece of advice I’ve often received is this: don’t buy one of those cheap flatpacks - mites love setting up home in the felt roof and they’re far too flimsy.)

Then there’s where to put them. There is an obvious spot in my garden, tucked behind the office in a sheltered corner, at the moment just rough grass in the wake of our building project. But that will mean careful design to make it look good. I guess there's the option of putting them on a putative allotment plot, like Ryan, but I don't think I'd be able to get up there enough to keep them fed and watered (Ryan, how do you do it all - haven't you got a horse too?) And I need to be careful in my choice of breed, too – ideally I want something that won’t be able to negotiate the 1m-tall picket fence into the veg patch. Brahmas, or Buff Orpingtons, maybe? Any other suggestions welcome.

I did take a detour for a few months into the world of quail, after noticing that Omlet, who make the Eglu, also do a version for these tiny birds. But there seemed to be so much contradictory advice out there – some said they’re noisy, some reported them to be quiet as mice. Others warned of cannibalism and other nastiness between birds, but some found they all rubbed along nicely. The main attraction was that unlike chickens they weren’t amenable to free ranging, and they were rather more low maintenance. But the very helpful @Chickenstreet on Twitter persuaded me in the end that if I was going to go for poultry keeping, chickens were far more interesting and rewarding.

Chicken keeping has grown hugely in popularity in the last few years, but are some people leaping into this hobby without fully absorbing how grim they’ll feel getting turfed out of bed at 7am on a rainy Sunday to feed and water their charges?  I’d guess a fair number of the secondhand Eglus for sale on eBay are being sold by people for whom the work involved outweighed the fresh eggs.

And me? I still plan to become a hen keeper, but I think I am going to wait until my toddler has realised that bird poo isn’t one of the major food groups.

Martin's moths

 "They're all dusty".

That was it - one of my colleague's explanations for why he hates moths. Other people worry they're going to fly into their faces, hair or ears, but really, what's it going to do, flutter you to death? I guess mottephobia is irrational as any other irrational fear. (I have a phobia about barnacles on whales, so I really can't talk. Let me tell you, whale watching was a traumatic experience, notwithstanding horrendous seasickness...).

Anyway, after my recent worries about the lack of butterflies in my garden, it did occur to me to wonder how the moth population is doing this year. Fortuitously, along came another Guardian colleague, Martin Wainwright. Turns out Martin's a moth enthusiast, and has set up a blog called Martin's Moths that I'd heartily recommend. He's also guesting in the Guardian diary this week and has livened proceedings up with the mention of a daily moth - today it's the cream-bordered green pea.

I hope Martin doesn't mind that me reproducing his lovely image of a Burnished Brass moth which, as he points out, is an excellent reason to let a few nettles live in your garden as they are the foodstuff of this moth at the caterpillar stage.

Anyway, back to the question of the "butterfly shortage". Martin points out that it may not be a shortage of the insects, rather a shortage of sunshine - the only conditions under which they like to be out and about. This seems to apply to moths too - wet nights equal a moth no-show for Martin's light traps. What do all these insects do in the rain, then, hang about under leaves and wait for things to dry up?

The butterflies are snubbing me

Maybe I am taking this rather too personally but my buddleia - way too big and ungainly for my small garden but usually great for the wildlife - doesn't seem to have hosted a single butterfly yet.

Is this just me or has anyone else noticed a dearth of butterflies this summer?

Update: I spoke to Butterfly Conservation today and anecdotally at least I am not alone - butterfly numbers appear to be down this year, although that's yet to be confirmed by the charity whose band of butterfly spotters are still at work. 

It's suspected to be down to last year's poor weather which affected reproduction, and also because there hasn't been much sunshine, and butterflies only fly in sunshine. This is all rather timely because Saturday marks the start of Save Our Butterflies Week.

Blackbird v Slug: no contest, really

This was the welcome sight outside my kitchen window today: a blackbird giving a slug a good pasting. The bird was holding the slug in its beak and moving its head from side to side, smashing its prize into the stone, presumably to tenderise it before eating.

I've seen thrushes use a stone as an anvil on slugs, but not this. It's a perfect illustration of why introducing birds into the garden is a must for the organic gardener. The mealworms I've been putting out have been doing the trick of getting more birds in, which is useful from an entertainment point of view, too, as my daughter loves them - she vibrates with excitement every time she sees one.

Becoming a bunny boiler?

My worst fears have been confirmed.

The holes dug in my raised beds that I'd blithely assumed were the work of one of the small dogs that occasionally roam the plot. But on a recent visit I clocked the poo pellets on the path - the final confirmation of the bad news that rabbits were responsible.

We've never had a bunny infestation before on the site, as far as I know. My plot is right on the edge facing open farmland, so it's a wonder there's not been a problem before now. I have to admit to feeling rather downhearted about it at the moment, and would appreciate any words of advice/encouragement/sympathy from any allotment holders similarly afflicted.

I am already eyeing up recipes for bunny burgers: now I just need to learn how to shoot.

Blackbirds singing in the dead of night?

Don't know about you but I slept through the 1am magnitude 5.2 earthquake that hit the UK last night, although I was up 45 minutes later with the baby. It probably has something to do with the fact that we're used to loud rumbles in the night, as our house is not far from a major train line. Rather disappointed to miss it - can anyone report back on what they felt/heard/saw? I heard someone on the radio reporting that blackbirds were singing just before the noise began.

Which all brings me neatly to my sister's speculation on the comments to this post that the trains are what keeps the birds out of my garden. Possible, but I don't think that's the problem as there are plenty of birds in the neighbour's garden, which is even closer to the track.

I think it's got more to do with a lack of cover (which I am trying to rectify with ivy on the fences and some bigger shurbs) and the fact that the birds have never been fed before.

So I am hoping that the new feeder will draw them in. And so far it seems to be working. Yesterday I saw blue tit and a great tit from the kitchen window in the space of about 30 seconds while doing the washing up yesterday. They weren't at the feeder, admittedly, but this is still progress as I've not seen a single tit in the garden before (pause for childish chuckle).

However it's a female blackbird (or perhaps more than one) that is hoovering up the mealworms I've scattered around the ground below the feeder at the moment.

Now all I have to do is get my other peanut feeder up and running and find a good position in the garden, and put down a tray for water.

It's all rather handy, as my daughter has just learned the sign for "bird" so it will be great if we get an opportunity to use it.

Feeding the birds

Following on from the birthday wormery, I ended up buying a worm-based birthday gift for myself. I'd gone to the garden centre to buy myself some kind of tool, but was deeply unimpressed by their offering (there's a whole other post about why garden centres sell more, I don't know, egg timers, than they do gardening equipment these days). So I bought a pot of dried mealworms and a window bird feeder instead. It's something I've wanted for ages, but have always been a bit wary of due to my terrible track record on attracting birds to the garden.

So far, so disappointing. I soaked the mealworms as instructed, and added some peanuts and pumpkin seeds* to the feeder. I sprinkled some on the ground to get things rolling, but so far, nothing ... help please!

*I'll only put these out until the end of the month and then withdraw as they're not suitable for feeding to the fledglings who will soon be around.

There's a rat in my heap, what am I gonna do?

(To paraphrase UB40 ...)

Some months ago I was working on the plot when I heard a rustling coming from the compost heap. I am not one of those people who jumps on a chair at the merest hint of a mouse, but my skin crawled at the sight of a rat crawling through my kitchen and garden waste.

I left the rat to it, hoping that it would fall prey to the regular baiting programme in place on my allotment site to deal with the pest problem. But this week I was reminded of the issue of rats on compost heaps, and allotments in general: there was a reader's question about it in one of the gardening magazines I read, which annoyingly I now can't track down and I caught a programme on Radio 4 dedicated to the issue of Britain's growing rat problem. Then on visiting the plot today I noticed a sign warning allotmenteers to look out for (and alert the correct authorities to) any dead rats after the latest lot of bait was laid.   

I am sure there are no rats in my compost heap at the moment - it's pretty sponge-like given the recent rain. I did fall prey to a mouse infestation in the past when I had a Dalek-type plastic compost bin in my garden. I'd failed to mix the browns and the greens properly*, and a mouse had made itself very comfortable in a big lump of shredded paper, until I scared the life out of myself - and it, probably - by lifting the lid to take out some compost. A good mix with a fork put paid to the mouse's papery pied-a-terre and it must have found digs elsewhere as it didn't return.

I think it bears repeating that, as it explains in this Garden Organic factsheet on composting, rats or indeed mice nesting in your heap is a sign that it's too dry. But presuming they're already there, should you worry? In answer to the first point, you should worry a bit - they're a danger to human health and their gnawing can do a lot of damage. But (yes, there's always a but) as this information sheet from the composting group York Rotters points out, it's not the end of the world to have a rat in your heap, provided you wear gloves while handling composting material, turning the heap and so on.

But, presuming you've decided the rats have to go, if only to avoid the prospect of a furry surprise one day when you give the heap a stir, what can you do to evict the little blighters? The sage advice offered by Garden Organic is to "add water until it has the consistency of a wrung-out sponge".  The aforementioned magazine suggested weighting down the heap with bricks to ensure no spaces were left for rodents to inhabit. I remember a work colleague of mine saying he'd constructed a completely rat-proof composter but I never got the full details from him: but the York Rotters do have some practical tips and also suggest various commercially available ratproof bins.

*(You can read an extract of my book on the subject of composting here.)

Turdus pilaris, or my search for a good bird book

A sighting of a fieldfare* while on holiday a few weeks back brought back happy memories of my days as a member of the YOC or Young Ornithologists' Club, the youth wing of the RSPB (now, sadly, rebranded as the far more prosaic Wildlife Explorers).

I've always had a keen eye for spotting birds, and my interest was rekindled by reading the excellent book How to be a Bad Birdwatcher by Simon Barnes. But I'd like to lay my hands on a really good field guide, because while the RSPB's site is really excellent for helping you to identify birds from their plumage and call, that's no good when you're out and about. I can't count the number of times I've been on the allotment or out on a walk when I've seen a bird and wished I could check what it was.

So, if you can suggest a comprehensive, compact guide to the birds of Britain, let me know in the comments below.

*Yes, I still draw childish pleasure from the fact that the thrush family have the Latin name Turdus ...

I've pig pictures (at last)

I've told you about the pigs that are my new neighbours on the allotment: well here's proof they exist. Cute eh? Figured out after some time spent watching that there's two boys and four girls. They're very good neighbours, and it's fun looking up from my work occasionally to see them frolicking about or rooting the ground for, well, roots.

I also managed to establish that the electric fence was not switched on when I accidentally barged it while trying to snap a shot of the pigs - not so clever ...

Not so sure now that the gingers are Tamworths though - can anyone accurately ID them for me?