How to solve the problems of a small Mayo poultry flock keeper?
COUNTRYFILE
A FRIEND who keeps a small flock of poultry has a problem. Well, the truth is that he has two problems – perhaps he has more, I cannot say. Yet two are immediately manifest.
The first comes in the constant threat of avian influenza, which hangs over his pets as a shroud waiting to descend at any given moment.
It is as the sword of Damocles, stripping all joy from his hobby and replacing it with certain dread.
His few ducks don’t appear to be affected, but continue the daily rounds of their small enclosure.
All they want is to get back into the vegetable patch, where they can hunt for slugs to their heart’s content.
And what a good job they did in the past! Where before those cabbages had come into the kitchen with full hearts, now they are run through with pests of every size and shape, and must be thoroughly cleaned and severely trimmed before finding their way into the pot.
The threat of bird flu means the ducks must stay under cover. Just one poorly corvid could wipe out many years of carefully selective breeding. (I did happen to see that Indian drake in action – and I assure you there was nothing either careful or selective about that bird, as my shoe will readily testify.)
The chickens must likewise be content with having a roof over their heads. The normally ample supply of offspring, in the form of eggs, has slowed to a trickle. It is sunlight they need, if they are to produce well. That and access to fresh grass.
Having suffered several months of light deprivation they now lay only as a last resort, and these eggs appear as listless, joyless articles, lacking the warm vibrancy of the typical free-range variety.
They lie flat in the pan, with dull-coloured yolks and runny whites, and need salt and some kind of sauce to render them even barely palatable.
But there, we have been spoiled for too long! Those living near the north pole or somewhere in the desert would be delighted to have such delectible items presented on their breakfast plate.
We, who know well what fresh eggs should properly taste like, remain unimpressed, even as the poor hens are at their continued confinement.
Spring is not far away, and as winter pales so shall the threat of disease. Our birds will be in the fields once more and we, together with ducks and hens, shall be lifted beyond measure.
The second small difficulty being experienced has to do with a rapidly increasing rodent population. Mice are one thing. The cat can cope well with any amount of them. At home we only get the wood mouse but here, among the chickens and ducks, the house mouse prevails.
It is the rat that causes great consternation. While poultry are outside, rat numbers appear to be restricted. Once the birds are confined, however, rats reproduce more quickly than rabbits.
Those sharing a shed with my friend have become fearless. They come into the open almost to feed at his feet. Many have died, yet their numbers remain very high.
An air gun was called into service and five exceedingly well fed rats fell in a short 15-minute spell. Those that remain alive, and there are many, somehow learned of the perils posed by marksmen (and I use that term loosely), and now stay out of the direct line of sight. Still they chew their way through boards and bales and carry away eggs as fast as they can be laid.
Poisons are quite out of the question. We have other means at our disposal. What would you do?