Monthly Update - January 2025
A number of years ago a lady from Theale asked me if we could look after her 6 turkeys and 4 chickens here at Rushall Farm. The Environmental Health officer had told her to remove them from her house because they were attracting rats. She cycled up from Theale every Sunday afternoon with quantities of treats, and would sit and talk to them in their new home as they ate shortbread biscuits, corn on the cob, lettuces and fresh rolls. Turkeys and chickens alike occasionally laid the odd egg. As we expanded the chickens with different breeds, she started showing eggs and the birds at the Newbury Show, winning many rosettes. Gradually the turkey numbers fell and with the spirit of enterprise she bought an incubator to squeeze into her already overcrowded one room flat. Of the first hatch only one survived, and on joining the flock here decided to beat up one of the hens. She was sent off to Burghfield Common to join another small flock. Two other hatchings were equally disappointing. As the years went on, the number of chickens increased from a dedicated breeder in Somerset. They were all chosen for special qualities like egg colour and size with a whole array of distinctive feathering. Most are friendly and happy for visiting children to pick up and hold. There are now 28, and all have names beginning with S; Spicy, Slightly, Shouty etc. Sunday afternoon’s diet has now been supplemented with a very large water melon, cooked mince, vegetarian ham, mealworms and tinned spaghetti with the tomato sauce washed off. I would pick her up from Theale as I listened to Gardeners Question Time and take her back after she had spent the afternoon talking to the chickens and feeding them treats in sequence. It was a time of complete contentment made even better by a coffee and her precious cigarettes.
She loved the countryside, could do the Times crossword in minutes, was a senior train controller before she retired, and thought about everything in detail. As a very young child she had pulled a saucepan full of boiling water down her chest leaving her life in the balance. She was a brilliant photographer and worked professionally taking portraits of show cattle and race horses. Growing up in rural Wales she spoke Welsh, was Secret Santa to the 52 flats where she lived and died on her own two weeks ago. The chickens and turkeys are now wondering why this special person doesn’t come anymore (and where are the treats?), as do we all.