Flight of fancy

They’re three weeks old. The fluffy chicks that hatched in our kitchen and stumbled uncertainly across a box of straw (see below) have become gangly, noisy bundles with a will of their own. This morning they asserted their independence by striking out across the dining room floor in single file.

It’s been increasingly a job of containment, persuading five active chicks to adopt as their home a large but low box in our house. They still need the warmth of the lamp, but they also love to flex their wings and it’s been a challenge to keep them happy. They’ve been gently introduced to the “great outdoors” in the form of a pen in the garden, which they have occupied a little longer each day.

Transport to and from the garden has been by means of a straw-filled basket covered with a cloth, once each kicking, squealing chick has been caught and lobbed in. The basket is then conveyed with its fluttering cargo, fluffy heads swaying with the movement and an extra person on hand in case of escape.

This growing feathered family had to stay indoors when we went on holiday last week. We were near enough to come and feed them once a day, but since we couldn’t take them outside our only option was to close the dining room doors, cover the sofa with a sheet and hope.

The result, on our return, was a smelly room full of tiny poos in various states of dryness. Our first hour at home was spent scrubbing the wooden floor after we had banished the little darlings to the garden. Even with the windows open and a good clean sweep, it was some time before the dining room felt fit to host a human meal.

Now, thank goodness, the chicks spend most of the day outside in an enlarged run with a covered area in case of rain – it poured today. And here’s the best innovation of all: an infra-red lamp that generates only heat, rigged up in the conservatory to which their box has now been dismissed. Civilisation has returned to the dining room at last.