It started with Norman "attacking" me.
No, thinking about it, it actually it started some time ago, when we still thought Norman was a boy, and Captain Flint was in charge. When Flint was attacking DH, Norman also had a bit of a go. We thought, of course, that he was a little Rooster-let and was just emulating his dad.Of course, now we know that he's a girl, this behaviour seems a bit odd.
Fast forward to a couple of days ago, by which time we'd had egg-shaped evidence that Norman was a girl. I walked into the run in the garden, and Norman came running over to me. I thought this was quite sweet, and unexpected. It wasn't sweet, and the unexpected thing was that Norman started pecking my legs. Vigorously. In a "i'm dominant to you" kind of way.
It did hurt a bit, but I felt for Norman. He (sorry, I can't get used to referred to Norm as "she") seems to be bottom of the 3 chooks, and I think Mrs Flint gives him a really hard time.
Today he escaped from the Run, by leaping onto the contraption we've put over the Eglu to prevent them using it as a way to escape, more times than I can remember. Each time, he tootled past the french window; each time I saw him, caught him, and put him back. And rearranged the contraption.
Each time I picked her up, s/he snuggled on to my arm, using it as a comfy perch. This from a bird who attacks me?
The last time though, he snuck past. I expect he had been watching Daisy, and had learned to limbo (Daisy looks like she's on hydraulic legs when she limbos); he must have limbo-ed along, just below the level along the sill of the french window. Either that or he waited just by the window until I got up to put the kettle on, and tipclawed past then.
I only realised he was out because the Garden Girls decided to simultaneously voice their indignation that one of the Incomers was free. I looked up, and saw him creeping along the corner of slightly-raised paving that we refer to as "The Terrace" (only to differentiate it from "the Patio" which is the paved area outside the living room). I rushed out into the garden, manouevred myself around the chicken netting, - no mean feat at the moment, it's a maze out there - and reached the Terrace. Norman was busy right in the corner, making himself a nest out of leaves. He was quite distressed at being picked up, and I realised he must be desperate to lay.
I put him in the Eglu - I mean IN the Eglu, itself - but he wouldn't settle in the nestbox. He was running around and around, then he came outside, went back in, came outside, went back in. I opened the eggport so I could see what was happening, and he bit me. Yes. he bit me. It was a chickeny bite, so there weren't actually any teeth involved. But it wasn't a peck. He got some of my hand flesh between his top and bottom beak, and then closed the beak together. In my book, that's a bite.
The poorboy girl chook was obviously in a bit of a state, and I couldn't see why. I assume that it was something to do with the other two, although they weren't doing anything as far as I could see. Anyway, I did the only sensible thing I could think of. I shut the Eglu door so he was completely shut in. And they were shut out.
A short time later, I peeked in, and there was a teeny weeny Norman egg.
No, thinking about it, it actually it started some time ago, when we still thought Norman was a boy, and Captain Flint was in charge. When Flint was attacking DH, Norman also had a bit of a go. We thought, of course, that he was a little Rooster-let and was just emulating his dad.Of course, now we know that he's a girl, this behaviour seems a bit odd.
Fast forward to a couple of days ago, by which time we'd had egg-shaped evidence that Norman was a girl. I walked into the run in the garden, and Norman came running over to me. I thought this was quite sweet, and unexpected. It wasn't sweet, and the unexpected thing was that Norman started pecking my legs. Vigorously. In a "i'm dominant to you" kind of way.
It did hurt a bit, but I felt for Norman. He (sorry, I can't get used to referred to Norm as "she") seems to be bottom of the 3 chooks, and I think Mrs Flint gives him a really hard time.
Today he escaped from the Run, by leaping onto the contraption we've put over the Eglu to prevent them using it as a way to escape, more times than I can remember. Each time, he tootled past the french window; each time I saw him, caught him, and put him back. And rearranged the contraption.
Each time I picked her up, s/he snuggled on to my arm, using it as a comfy perch. This from a bird who attacks me?
The last time though, he snuck past. I expect he had been watching Daisy, and had learned to limbo (Daisy looks like she's on hydraulic legs when she limbos); he must have limbo-ed along, just below the level along the sill of the french window. Either that or he waited just by the window until I got up to put the kettle on, and tipclawed past then.
I only realised he was out because the Garden Girls decided to simultaneously voice their indignation that one of the Incomers was free. I looked up, and saw him creeping along the corner of slightly-raised paving that we refer to as "The Terrace" (only to differentiate it from "the Patio" which is the paved area outside the living room). I rushed out into the garden, manouevred myself around the chicken netting, - no mean feat at the moment, it's a maze out there - and reached the Terrace. Norman was busy right in the corner, making himself a nest out of leaves. He was quite distressed at being picked up, and I realised he must be desperate to lay.
I put him in the Eglu - I mean IN the Eglu, itself - but he wouldn't settle in the nestbox. He was running around and around, then he came outside, went back in, came outside, went back in. I opened the eggport so I could see what was happening, and he bit me. Yes. he bit me. It was a chickeny bite, so there weren't actually any teeth involved. But it wasn't a peck. He got some of my hand flesh between his top and bottom beak, and then closed the beak together. In my book, that's a bite.
The poor
A short time later, I peeked in, and there was a teeny weeny Norman egg.
Norman looked a lot happier, and didn't try escaping again all afternoon.
