49) Birds and Bees
We have kept chickens a number of different times in out lives. The first time we kept them was not long after we got married and were living in Kabundi Chingola. We really wanted to keep them; we built a chicken run for them and bought day old chicks from Arbour Acres and reared them to adulthood. I think that was the only time we made a conscious decision to keep them. On other occasions we have been obligated in some way or another.
The next time we had chickens was when we were living in Hatfield, and it was because our friends Jack and Judy Lawrence were going on long leave overseas and although their chickens were still laying Jack and Judy knew that it would only be a month or two before they would go off the lay and not be worth their keep anymore. They did not want to slaughter them that soon as they did still have some laying days ahead of them so they offered them to us. They would come with a ready built hen house and we would have cheap eggs for a month or two. I don’t remember being particularly keen on the idea but Jonathan and Dominic were, so about half a dozen fat white hens became part of the family. Their hen house was placed at the end of the garden and it was here they were given food and water. It was opened every morning and they scratched around the yard all day. Once they had gone to roost they were closed in for the night. Of course this way the eggs could be found all over the yard and sometimes they were overlooked and were not too fresh by the time they were found but mostly we had fresh eggs. Eventually they got rather old and as we knew would happen we weren’t getting any eggs at all, just feeding them and getting nothing in return. We made a discission to kill them and clean them and sell them as meat to the African working in the area. Jonny and I were of course too chicken (excuse the pun) to do the job and asked our gardener Denford if he would be prepared to do it. He was quite happy with the job so it was decided that he would do it on a day when we and the children would be out for the whole of the day. We knew that Jonathan and Dominic would be upset as they had grown fond of the hens and given them names. I organised the whole thing and gave Denford all the tools we thought he would need for the job and went out expecting the whole thing to be over by the time we got home.
When we got home Denford came to me to tell me that the knife I had given him was not sharp enough for the job. The boys guessed what he was talking about and kicked up a big stink. How could we think of killing their chickens? I think this was why I was not keen to have them in the first place, eventually it has to come to this and it always results in tears. I just had to back down and said “OK, forget it Denford we will not kill them, we will just keep on feeding them and turn the whole place into a retirement village for elderly fowls” and was prepared to do that rather than have all that upset, but I had not reckoned on Denford’s resourcefulness.
A few days later when the children were with me and within earshot he came to me and told me that his sister would like to have our hens. He said that she lived in a village not too far away and that she just loved hens and was not at all worried if they did not lay eggs. She would look after them and give them a good home and they could live happily ever after.
Once again a day when we would all be out was designated and this time the dirty deed was done and then every few days Denford would bring the boys ‘messages for his sister’ on the welfare of the chickens. He told them how happy they were living in the country, that they had made friends with his sisters other chickens and were loved and cared for by all his nieces and nephews. He kept the story up for quite a while, until the children had forgotten about them. I feel quite guilty about the whole thing now but at the time it seemed very important that we got rid of them but I don’t really remember why.
One other time we had chickens they were the small bantam variety. This time they belonged to Dominic and I tried very hard to resist their arrival but to no avail. Dominic had promised that they would be his pets and that he would look after them and make sure they had food and water and a clean place to sleep. All went well to begin with. They also roamed the garden during the day but had to be locked up at night in case dogs got in to kill them. One day Dominic noticed that a number of the small birds had little sores on them and we did not know what had caused them. He spoke to his friend Andries, who had given him the bantams and his mother, who knew about these things, came and had a look at them. She said that they had ‘chicken pox’ which we thought was very strange but we accepted her diagnosis. She told Dominic that he must cover the sores with boot polish every morning until they cleared up. So first thing in the morning before he went to school he would take a tin of polish and a cloth and before letting out the chickens he would cover the sores with the polish. To check that he had done what was required I would ask him each morning at the breakfast table “Have you polished your chickens yet?”
He learnt a lot from those chickens, he learnt that having pets is nice but they are living things and have to be looked after and they can take a lot of work. Once one of them fell into the pool, and as it could not swim it would have drowned if Dominic had not been there to scoop it out.
I remember that Jonathan once had a little black rabbit; I think it was called Sooty and both of the boys had guinea pigs. I don’t remember what Jonathan called his but Dominic’s was called Queekqueek. They lived in a special hutch at the back of the house but sometimes the kids would bring them into the house for a while. One of the games they liked to play with them was to cover them with a sheet of newspaper. The guinea pigs would run around with the paper over them and it would look very funny as if the newspaper was moving around the house unassisted.
While we were living in Hatfield the boys also became interested in keeping bees. They had some friends who kept bees and they though that they would like to do so too. They asked Jonny if they could have the money to buy a hive and all the equipment and clothing. Jonny said that if they were going to keep bees it would have to be done in a proper businesslike way. He would put up the money for the equipment and so be the Managing Director of the enterprise and Jonathan and Dominic would have to do the work and they would for their labour receive equal shares in the company. Books and records were to be kept and this was up to the boys too but I was to show them how to go about it. All the equipment was purchased, the hive, the overalls, the veil, the gloves, a smoker and every thing else they needed and it was set up at the very back of the garden and with a grass screen around it to ensure that the bees came out of the hive on a flight plan of over five foot to lessen the chance of anyone getting stung. I seem to recall that something was placed inside the hive to encourage the bees to make their home in our nice new hive and we just sat back and waited. I remember one warm Sunday afternoon lying on my bed with my book and dosing off, I woke because I heard Jonathan shouting, “the Queen is coming, the Queen is coming, the Queen is coming”. Only half awake I thought he was talking about Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth 2 and wondered what she was doing there and if I had any thing to offer her for tea. It took me a minute to realise that he meant the queen bee. The small swarm went into the hive but they did not flourish and left after a while. I suppose the fact that the hive was so new was a bit off putting as they did not have a great deal of luck with the bees to begin with but eventually when we were living in Umtali they did establish a thriving hive and they reaped a crop of honey. They learnt a lot from the whole exercise, particularly how aggressive African bees are and how vicious their sting is. Jonathan was rather allergic to the sting and would swell badly every time he was stung. It was not a very profitable business though and the Managing Director did not recoup the capital he had invested.
The next time we had chickens was when we were living in Hatfield, and it was because our friends Jack and Judy Lawrence were going on long leave overseas and although their chickens were still laying Jack and Judy knew that it would only be a month or two before they would go off the lay and not be worth their keep anymore. They did not want to slaughter them that soon as they did still have some laying days ahead of them so they offered them to us. They would come with a ready built hen house and we would have cheap eggs for a month or two. I don’t remember being particularly keen on the idea but Jonathan and Dominic were, so about half a dozen fat white hens became part of the family. Their hen house was placed at the end of the garden and it was here they were given food and water. It was opened every morning and they scratched around the yard all day. Once they had gone to roost they were closed in for the night. Of course this way the eggs could be found all over the yard and sometimes they were overlooked and were not too fresh by the time they were found but mostly we had fresh eggs. Eventually they got rather old and as we knew would happen we weren’t getting any eggs at all, just feeding them and getting nothing in return. We made a discission to kill them and clean them and sell them as meat to the African working in the area. Jonny and I were of course too chicken (excuse the pun) to do the job and asked our gardener Denford if he would be prepared to do it. He was quite happy with the job so it was decided that he would do it on a day when we and the children would be out for the whole of the day. We knew that Jonathan and Dominic would be upset as they had grown fond of the hens and given them names. I organised the whole thing and gave Denford all the tools we thought he would need for the job and went out expecting the whole thing to be over by the time we got home.
When we got home Denford came to me to tell me that the knife I had given him was not sharp enough for the job. The boys guessed what he was talking about and kicked up a big stink. How could we think of killing their chickens? I think this was why I was not keen to have them in the first place, eventually it has to come to this and it always results in tears. I just had to back down and said “OK, forget it Denford we will not kill them, we will just keep on feeding them and turn the whole place into a retirement village for elderly fowls” and was prepared to do that rather than have all that upset, but I had not reckoned on Denford’s resourcefulness.
A few days later when the children were with me and within earshot he came to me and told me that his sister would like to have our hens. He said that she lived in a village not too far away and that she just loved hens and was not at all worried if they did not lay eggs. She would look after them and give them a good home and they could live happily ever after.
Once again a day when we would all be out was designated and this time the dirty deed was done and then every few days Denford would bring the boys ‘messages for his sister’ on the welfare of the chickens. He told them how happy they were living in the country, that they had made friends with his sisters other chickens and were loved and cared for by all his nieces and nephews. He kept the story up for quite a while, until the children had forgotten about them. I feel quite guilty about the whole thing now but at the time it seemed very important that we got rid of them but I don’t really remember why.
One other time we had chickens they were the small bantam variety. This time they belonged to Dominic and I tried very hard to resist their arrival but to no avail. Dominic had promised that they would be his pets and that he would look after them and make sure they had food and water and a clean place to sleep. All went well to begin with. They also roamed the garden during the day but had to be locked up at night in case dogs got in to kill them. One day Dominic noticed that a number of the small birds had little sores on them and we did not know what had caused them. He spoke to his friend Andries, who had given him the bantams and his mother, who knew about these things, came and had a look at them. She said that they had ‘chicken pox’ which we thought was very strange but we accepted her diagnosis. She told Dominic that he must cover the sores with boot polish every morning until they cleared up. So first thing in the morning before he went to school he would take a tin of polish and a cloth and before letting out the chickens he would cover the sores with the polish. To check that he had done what was required I would ask him each morning at the breakfast table “Have you polished your chickens yet?”
He learnt a lot from those chickens, he learnt that having pets is nice but they are living things and have to be looked after and they can take a lot of work. Once one of them fell into the pool, and as it could not swim it would have drowned if Dominic had not been there to scoop it out.
I remember that Jonathan once had a little black rabbit; I think it was called Sooty and both of the boys had guinea pigs. I don’t remember what Jonathan called his but Dominic’s was called Queekqueek. They lived in a special hutch at the back of the house but sometimes the kids would bring them into the house for a while. One of the games they liked to play with them was to cover them with a sheet of newspaper. The guinea pigs would run around with the paper over them and it would look very funny as if the newspaper was moving around the house unassisted.
While we were living in Hatfield the boys also became interested in keeping bees. They had some friends who kept bees and they though that they would like to do so too. They asked Jonny if they could have the money to buy a hive and all the equipment and clothing. Jonny said that if they were going to keep bees it would have to be done in a proper businesslike way. He would put up the money for the equipment and so be the Managing Director of the enterprise and Jonathan and Dominic would have to do the work and they would for their labour receive equal shares in the company. Books and records were to be kept and this was up to the boys too but I was to show them how to go about it. All the equipment was purchased, the hive, the overalls, the veil, the gloves, a smoker and every thing else they needed and it was set up at the very back of the garden and with a grass screen around it to ensure that the bees came out of the hive on a flight plan of over five foot to lessen the chance of anyone getting stung. I seem to recall that something was placed inside the hive to encourage the bees to make their home in our nice new hive and we just sat back and waited. I remember one warm Sunday afternoon lying on my bed with my book and dosing off, I woke because I heard Jonathan shouting, “the Queen is coming, the Queen is coming, the Queen is coming”. Only half awake I thought he was talking about Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth 2 and wondered what she was doing there and if I had any thing to offer her for tea. It took me a minute to realise that he meant the queen bee. The small swarm went into the hive but they did not flourish and left after a while. I suppose the fact that the hive was so new was a bit off putting as they did not have a great deal of luck with the bees to begin with but eventually when we were living in Umtali they did establish a thriving hive and they reaped a crop of honey. They learnt a lot from the whole exercise, particularly how aggressive African bees are and how vicious their sting is. Jonathan was rather allergic to the sting and would swell badly every time he was stung. It was not a very profitable business though and the Managing Director did not recoup the capital he had invested.
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