August Has a Spring in Its Step
With autumn fast approaching, there has interestingly been a second wind of spring at the farm.
The familiar tone of Peachicks caught my ear. Those that know the sound will know! And sure enough, from around the corner appeared my Peahen with two new babies.
Do I need more Peafowl on the farm? I really don’t. But the sight of these new lives is still a pleasure to behold.
It’s also a worrying time. They are so small and are so incredibly vulnerable to a host of predators from both the sky and the ground. Mum herself is also vulnerable at this stage, as her days and her nights are spent lower to the ground protecting her babies.
She would normally roost, with the other Peafowl, high in the trees at night, where she is safe from attack from animals such as foxes.
The chicks are surprisingly agile and have a degree of flight from a very young age. They can roost under Mum off the ground overnight. But at this stage, still within reach of a determined fox or a rat and more.
It is a huge relief when each new day sees them appear safe and well.
Then there has been a very untimely and surprise, random birth. A lamb.
Lambing time at Lake Farm is January. This may sound early to some, but ewes typically come into season around August time and have a five-month gestation period. The rams are together with the ewes all year round here, so January births is the natural time for them.
Their seasons normally cycle, in this climate and region of the world, from late summer to early winter. So if I wanted to delay lambing time until the spring, which is when we tend to think of seeing new born lambs dotted about the pastures, then I would keep the rams separate from the ewes until a later time such as November.
To discover a new born lamb in the field during my daily check on the sheep, on the very last day of July, was rather a surprise.
A healthy and adorable little girl, born to one of my elders among the flock. A devoted Mum. Both are doing fantastically well.
Then the hat trick of new arrivals. Something else we are accustomed to associating with Easter time and the spring. The hatching of a clutch of chicks.
This hen’s diligence has paid off and she is a proud Mum of seven fluffy charges.
Initially thought to be six. One chick in particular, has been especially fortunate and shown how incredibly determined it was to join its siblings in the journey of life.
One of the eggs hadn’t hatched. The shell was partially broken and the egg was cold. The chick could just be seen, but sadly, it looked like this little one had not meant to be.
Then I caught a glimpse of the barest of a movement and heard the faintest whisper of a cheap. It was amazingly, somehow still alive. I put it under a heat lamp and carefully removed the rest of the shell. I stress carefully at this point. There could have been an underlying reason that this chick was unable to fully hatch.
It fought with everything it could muster to get moving. Nature is an incredible thing.
When its little fluffy down had dried and it had gained a bit of strength and mobility, I set it up in a larger enclosed area with the lamp above one end. Giving it the choice of a warmer or cooler space to be in. The hope was that it would get strong enough that I could reunite it with its Mum that night.
I had also during this time, moved the hen and the other chicks to a small run on the grass.
Come the evening, I put her and the six chicks into a box and brought them into an inside area. This was so that she and her chicks could be safe warm and dry, but also so that I could add little number seven to underneath her, knowing that it wouldn’t be left out in the cold, should she move in the night or at first light.
In the morning, I was very happy to see that all seven had made it through the first night.
I put them all together back into the run outside, keeping a careful eye on the little seventh one. Given its more disadvantageous beginning, it wasn’t as strong as the others, so regular checks were needed to ensure that it could get to Mum whenever it needed to and be able to eat and drink.
It is now the morning of day two (and a half) in the life of the chicks. Little number seven has made it through a second night.
It is still not as strong as the others and this means it is far from out of the woods yet. Fingers are firmly crossed. But no matter what, this little soul has shown incredible resource and resilience and has wanted to stand out from the crowd in more ways than one. Guess which one in the pictures, is little number seven!
