Bloody Pet Rescue

I found one of the Andrews Sisters dead in her nest box this morning. All the amber rockets are moulting at the moment, so physically are at their lowest ebb, but a sudden death (number two in a week) is very worrying to say the least. All the hens have recently been wormed, treated for ticks and fed properly, but I still am concerned that I am doing something terribly wrong.

So I drove up to the farm on the other side of the village to pick the brains of Betty the farmer's wife and self proclaimed poultry expert. She has 70 hens,a scruffy dress sense similar to my own and outbuildings to die for, so if anyone could give me some advice, she could. I felt better after chatting to her, as basically she said everything was pretty normal.She also enjoyed telling me some of the horror stories she had experienced with her hens (disembowelment of chicks by a psychopathic bantam), but it is always nice to meet up with a fellow poultry geek.

William is still having skin problems and delightful squits this morning (I had shampooed all the carpets by 8 am), so I took him and one of the remaining Andrew's sisters (who has a sore neck- see pic) to the vets.

I like to think that I am an expert of waiting room protocols now, as I have been up to the vets almost on a weekly basis this year, so with hen in a box, William on my knee and digital wireless head phones firmly in place, I prepared for the banal chatter of oh-too-serious-pet owners that are shoved together in the vets waiting room..

Pet owners can be like any other geeks in this world, as they can exhibit rather questionable social skills. You know the sort.........talks in an over familiar sing song way,always too loudly and always too much, BUT worst of all they talk TO their animals as if they understand EVERYTHING they say. So today we had the bunny lady.............on and on she shouted to anyone who caught her eye, about her pets, their pets, everyones soddin pets.........William sat on my knee watching her carefully as she regaled everyone with horror stories of her pet's illness'. I refused to make eye contact and tried manfully to listen to The Archers. After 20 minutes of this I could have strangled the poor creature, especially when she started to explain to her rabbit ( yes rabbit) why the dog next to her wanted to play ( he was used to rabbits at home)...I could have stood up and shouted "He's a rabbit!!!!!!!!!!!!!!he doesn't understand the concept of dogs playing with rabbits at home!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!he doesn't even understand ENGLISH....HE'S A BUNNY FOR GOD'S SAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!.SHUT UP..........PLEASE SHUT UP YOU NUTTER!!!!!!!!!!"

Message to self........calm down.........and don't speak.

Anyhow the new Spanish vet diagnosed William with enteritis and field mite (in between his toes), gave me some poultry spray for the hens' sore wings, antibiotics and mite treatment for Will and stung me for 40 quid.in the process......