An Ode to Artemis

I'm not in a good place at the moment. Last Thursday (3rd September 2015) was a bad day for me. I had to have my prize rooster and the love of my girls' life euthanised because he broke his leg during a fight with Peeps, the other rooster in the flock.

Now we all know it's not a good idea to have two roosters together, but I did not know Peeps was a rooster when I rescued him from certain death as a two-day old. He grew up in my studio with Snoodles and when they were both big enough to join the flock, they went outside. Of course Artemis tolerated the youngster, but always letting him understand who's actually King of the roost. And Peeps always obliged, keeping his distance and staying out of harm's way.

Artemis surveying his dominion from his favourite perch, keeping an eye on the girls

But as time progressed and Peeps got bigger and stronger, he wasn't so keen any more to give way and every now and then he would challenge the king, but always ended up retreating to a safe corner.

Artemis has seen it all, been there, done that, sending other rivals packing in great haste. During one such altercation with a previous rooster, Mr. Chook, for whom I had to find a new home because of the constant fighting, Artemis's top part of his beak was broken almost completely off, just hanging by a thread. I glued it back on with some plastic putty and luckily it took and grew back on, the plastic putty dropping off after a few weeks.

Injuries sustained with an earlier altercation with Peeps

Soon he was a good as new and ruling the roost once again with an iron claw.

Artemis was an excellent husband and provider, always finding the best tit-bits and passing them on to one of the girls. Here Hetty came rushing after he found a nice juicy cutworm in the compost heap.

Artemis strutting his stuff on the patio

Artemis surrounded by some of the girls after he called them for a tasty snack he had found

Artemis in full glorious colour after a successful molt

Beauty in motion

Artemis taking one of his few well-deserved breaks after all the girls had settled down for a snooze under the plants

Artemis was also the inspiration for many a sketch I made of him and the girls, who can resist such beauty?

Artemis with his broken leg

After hearing quite a raucous outside one afternoon, the girls cackling and screaming, I went out to see what's happening and everybody was clustered in the centre of the lawn (including Peeps), but Artemis was nowhere to be seen. After a search, I found him under some plants, lying down with his leg at a terrible angle and his comb and neck feathers covered in blood. Obviously there had been a fight, as Peeps was also covered in blood.

I carefully picked Artemis up, hurrying inside with him to assess the damage. After cleaning off all the blood, he seemed perfectly fine, apart from his loosely dangling leg. There was no external damage, but I decided to take him to the vet anyway for an examination. The prognosis was not good and all he could do was give some pain killers and an anti-inflammatory.

For two weeks I kept a close eye on Artemis, despairing at the fact that he could hardly get to the food or water, struggling along, hopping short distances on his one leg and supporting himself with his left wing, tiring quickly and lying down again. During this time, he and the girls were kept in the run with Peeps being banished to a separate coop until Artemis was better.

By last week Thursday, after almost 3 weeks, there was absolutely no improvement and I could feel that he had lost weight. Off to the vet again. It was abvious I had two choices - either have him put down or carry on trying. I contemplated the consequences, both for him and me, if I should go that route of trying, and although my heart was screaming "keep on trying! keep on trying!", I decided that it was not fair to Artemis and that it was better to have him put to sleep. 

I held him in my arms as the vet administered the injection and cried and cried as he flapped his last death throes.

Peeps has now taken over the perch from which to keep an eye on the girls and is trying his best to meet the high standards Artemis set, taking little snacks from me and now calling the girls to come and get it in stead of gobbling it up himself like previously.

And so goes the cycle of life on a smallholding...

A loving moment - Kiep, Artemis's favourite wife, gently preening his wounds after a fight with Mr. Chook

::

A bath and a clean nest

After Kiep's broodiness finished a couple of days ago, I decided she needed a bath after sitting on her golf ball for almost a month. She looked decidedly drab and worse for the wear and needed a bit of special TLC.

I prepared some luke warm water in a tub and put her in. At first she struggled a bit (it was her first bath ever), but the minute she felt the warmth of the water, she actually lay down! I gently shampooed her back, chest and vent area, careful not to ruffle her feathers too much.

I remembered using vinegar as a youngster to rinse my hair after a wash when we'd run out of conditioner and it always left my hair soft and shiny. So, after a first rinse, I transferred Kiep to another tub with a bit of vinegar in the water, gave her a good rinsing, dried her gently with a towel and then used the hair dryer to get her nice and dry. I was a bit worried about the noise of the hair dryer, but she seemed to enjoy it, fluffing up her feathers to let in the hot air.

Kiep sunning herself in the bathroom court-yard

After she was all nice and dry, and oh so extremely soft and fluffy! we went out into the bathroom court-yard, where she spent a while preening and getting her feathers in the correct order again and when she was ready, I led her out to the main garden where she immediately rushed up to Artemis, greeting him with some wing-flapping and a lot of prancing around.

Kiep meeting up with Artemis after her bath

Spending some time with Artemis in the garden after a nice warm bath

Now it was time to also clean out her nest-box, which is on top of one of my art tables in my studio. I cleaned out the box thoroughly, put in fresh grass and then placed it back, all nice and clean.

Later in the morning she strutted into my studio to deliver her breakfast, but it turned into a big to-do. She took one look at the nest and, horrified, she proceeded to unpack all the grass and then putting it back to her liking before settling down to the serious job of laying the egg!

Her eggs are different after this last broody incident, much bigger and not so white, more brown.

My little girl is growing up now…

.

I will fear no evil...

::

Kentucky, my pet Rooster

Hope is a thing with feathers. 

That perches in the soul. 

And sings the tunes without the words. 

And never stops at all. 

- Verse from Emily Dickinson poem 

Watercolour on Bockingford

Besides my love for all animals, and for birds in particular, my love affair with chickens started in the late 70’s, when we bought our first smallholding (Tarlton, Gauteng, South Africa) and, of course, the first thing anybody on a smallholding does, is get chickens, ducks and geese!

After a couple of months of settling in on our new smallholding, I was given some Bantam chickens by a neighbour, and there was a mad scramble to erect some chicken coups. They were prolific little breeders and soon the yard was full of mothers with little chicks , all running like mad for a tit-bit when they see me.

One newly-hatched little fellow, however, seemed not to be able to keep up with the rest, so I duly ‘rescued’ him, carrying him around in a basket and feeding him at every opportunity. The result was Kentucky, the most beautiful specimen of a rooster I had ever seen, with bright, coppery feathers adorning his neck and the most beautiful blue, black and burgundy tail feathers a rooster could wish for! Although he ruled his chosen hens with an iron claw, he always was a bit of a loner, spending hours following me around, hens in tow, or roosting on the back of the couch in the lounge (with lots of newspapers on the floor!)

He spent many years with me, preferring to roost in the tree outside my bedroom window, in stead of the chicken coup with the rest, and my heart was broken when I went out one morning and found part of him under the tree, half eaten, killed by a Genet during the night. But he lives in my heart forever and I’m sure he’s still watching over me from chicken heaven.

My apologies that I haven't got any photographs, but this was in the days before I had a computer, wasn't much into photography and, of course, wasn't blogging yet!

.

A whole new enterprise?

Eggs have been called “the cement that holds the castle of cuisine together.” 

Eggs, eggs, eggs…..I get six to eight eggs a day from my hens and after months of having had them for breakfast three times a week, prepared them in salads, I even BAKED something! I’ve painted them, pricked holes in them, used the shells in various ways, feed them to my girls, given them away and now I’m running out of ideas now. Also, frankly, I virtually cannot face another egg at the moment!

Egg-stuffed Potato

Scrambled eggs

Omelette

::

 

Breakfast being served!

Kiep 

Hettie

Micky

So the only solution is to start a farm stall and sell them – maybe I should plant some strawberries to sell as well….? And maybe some arts and crafts or a couple of paintings…. or a coffee shop specialising in breakfasts.... this could actually turn into a whole new enterprise! lol!

.

Snoodles, a chick with attitude!

Camera : Canon EOS 550D 

Taken in my garden (Tarlton, Gauteng, South Africa)

This is Snoodles, the little chick I saved from the dustbin, took her out of the egg in November 2013 and she’s been living with me in my studio. She’s getting to be a big girl now and has already joined all the other girls in the chicken coop.

As soon as Snoodles was big enough, we’d go on field trips through the garden and my wildlife pond area, where she would investigate every nook and cranny, delighting in catching the odd insect. Here she hopped on a rock, chasing after a Dragonfly.

Good luck with that Snoodles!

 Snoodles standing on my computer speaker, taking a peek at what's going on outside

Snoodles taking some time out on the edge of Jacko's chair, much to his disgust!

.

Solly's dustbin chook

This is Solly’s chook, one of the dustbin chicks born last November 2013. He’s turned into a beautiful rooster, obviously of mixed blood as his feathers are like those of a Silkie. But what makes him adorable is the fact that he talks to me – whenever he sees me, he utters this whole repertoire of cackles and croaks all the while staring me straight in the eye. He’s also very tame, sitting down when I put my hand on his back and then allowing me to pick him up for a cuddle. Normally all Solly’s chicks that turn out to be roosters are destined for the pot, but I’ve asked him nicely to spare Mr. Chook. (Solly is our mechanic/handyman and he has all these chickens that wander all over our smallholding and usually end up breeding somewhere in my garden.)

.

Half a beauty!

Artemis during his moult. Half his cape and half his beautiful tail feathers are gone, but it won’t be long before they are all replaced by healthy, more beautiful than ever, new feathers!

.

Peeps

Camera : Canon EOS 550 

Taken in my studio (Tarlton, Gauteng, South Africa)

After being abandoned by his mother at far to early an age, Peeps often follows Snoodles into my studio, hops up on my desk and takes a break on the window sill or on top of my speaker on my desk.

 

Peeps was born 3 weeks after Snoodles (one of the original dustbin chicks), and was an only child. Mommy had 10 eggs, but due to weeks of heavy rain, Peeps was the only one to emerge after the designated 19 days of brooding. Mommy was absolutely wonderful with Peeps, protecting him when he was cold, finding him the tastiest morsels, showing him all the corners of the garden and teaching him the way of chickens.

Normally baby chicks stay with their Mommy for about 7-8 weeks, after which she regards them as grown-up enough to fend for themselves. Besides which, she starts longing for Mr. Rooster and getting the urge to lay eggs, so that's perfectly understandable. But Mommy started getting these urges when Peeps was a mere 4 weeks old and summarily abandoned him in search of Mr. Rooster.

Peeps wandered the garden for 3 days, desperately calling to his mother, but to no avail. She had moved on. But soon he sought the company of Snoodles who, herself, was a bit of a loner, growing up in my studio and not mixing with the other chickens much when she was out in the garden. He started following her around, coming into my studio to eat when she ate and soon became quite at home here.

But every night I tried to put him back outside to find his Mommy and besides, he had his usual little sleeping place out in the garden shed. After a few failed attempts I gave up, and he joined Snoodles in her basket at night, the two of them snuggling comfortably in one another's company.

The two of them became have now become inseparable and spend their days together, foraging in the garden and keeping out of the way of the grown-ups, who will not let a chance go by to let them know they are new-comers and better behave!

The next challenge is getting Snoodles and Peeps integrated into the flock. They're ready to leave the basket and it's time for them to move into the coop with Artemis and the rest of the girls...

 

Snoodles in the garden

 

 

Snoodles taking a turn on the speaker, looking to see who's outside

Snoodles roosting on Jacko's chair, much to his disgust - his chair is private property!

 

::