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It’s chicken prison, or at least it was. Due to increasing demands on our egg supplies, we finally relented on 10 July and collected three more chickens from Hens4Homes. Rhode Island Rangers, the same as the most recent three we bought from Kirsty, they’ve not had an easy time settling in. We’re sure they’re even smaller than the last three additions to the coop, and with five old hens to make friends with, our new 17-week old girls have had a tough time of it.

Constantly pecked when they first arrived, they kept retreating to the new high perch that Nik had made for the coop the week before. High above the old chickens they were safe, not least because the elder chooks hadn’t really worked out what the tall perch was for. So, when that was taken away, the new girls jumped on the middle perch, again thinking they were away from any viscious beaks. Not so, as the more mature hens already used that branch to sit on, and no way were they giving that up.

So, drastic measures were called for. Raspberry netting in the middle of the chicken coop transformed the enclosure into chicken prison or a sort of Big Brother rich house, poor house arrangement. It was essential, though; it was the only way the new trio could get any respite. Putting the disused cat kennel in the corner of the new birds’ enclosure helped a little, too, as they could retreat from the hot daytime sun with no fear of older chicken reprisals.

But, it couldn’t last forever. With Margot, Gerry, Gabby and pals rebounding off the netting like space hoppers hitting a forcefield, it had to go. Beaks were getting tangled, chickens were squawking and the situation just wasn’t working as much as we’d hoped. We were also in danger of putting off the inevitable flock integration. But, since removing the netting, things have gotten worse, with the new birds spending most of their time in the Eglu or on the steps to the Eglu when we forcibly – and maybe cruelly – closed the door. But, it could be a case of being cruel to be kind.

Nursing our new three in the evening by closing all the older hens in with the exception of Gabby – she seems to at least want to make friends – so that they can eat and drink in peace and quiet seems to be helping them, although one of them does have a blue face, which we can only think is bruising from the pecking. It seems to be, with good reason, absolutely terrified, but simply has to fight back at some point. But, the week started on a positive note, as at least one of the new Rhodies has the guts to steal food from the older ones’ mouths, while all eight can stand in the same space now and not get too bothered. It’s a long way from perfect yet, but I think we just might have turned the corner.

Yes, I know she was only a chicken, but it’s sad nonetheless. Barbara, our white Sussex Ranger died on Friday morning in the coop, after we think, a short-ish illness. Apparently, all the signs were there (dirty back-end, pale-coloured comb), and the inevitable was, well, inevitable. I don’t think there’s much we could have done for her. We cleaned her up a few weeks ago, and thought we’d sorted out whatever the problem was, but obviously we hadn’t.

She went quietly, though, and looked much the same as she had done for the past few weeks, eyes closed and peacefully asleep. She’s been very quiet recently, seemingly spending most of the daylight hours asleep and resting away from our five other chickens, moving occasionally to peck at the scraps that were thrown in. On Friday, once she’d gone, I moved her to the greenhouse where she was collected by Vic (who was at the house with Andrew cutting a tree down), who disposed of her for us.

Gerry and Margot (who arrived with Barbara two years ago this coming August) seem fine, as do the newer three laying ladies. It’s strange not seeing a white bird in the coop, though. Barbara always let the world happen round her and whether the new arrivals stressed her out, we’ll never know. We do know that we’ve had five eggs a day for the past few weeks and we’re still getting the same number now; Barbara had obviously stopped laying some time ago.

We’ve had our new chickens for just over a month now and we thought they were 17 weeks old, which meant that egg laying was still 7 weeks away. But, for a couple of weeks now we’ve collected almost half-size eggs (think Cadbury’s Creme Egg dimensions) every day, and some days more than one. That can only mean one thing; one or more of our new hens is popping out eggs a little prematurely.

That would explain the size, but the new girls’ combs are nowhere near sizable yet, while their legs are still more yellow than white (the brightness fades as maturity nears). They could just be older than we thought of course, but then should the eggs still be so small? if we were in any doubt, I opened the pop hole to the nest box to find one of the new Rhodies sitting on a very warm, small egg.

It was the right colour, too, so we might have our answer. Our older chickens all lay eggs or varying shades (Barbara lays white, Gerry lash flesh colour and Margot lays brown) and although these have differed in colour each day, why would they be suddenly laying smaller eggs? Yes, they have been down in count over the winter as we had expected them to be, but now that we’re back up to collecting a more sustainable number, why would they then shrink in size?

So many questions. We’ll definitely watch the situation, but yesterday morning, did I accidentally find our phantom egg-layer?

They’ve been here two weeks and already our three new Rhode Island Red chickens seem to have convinced our older trio of hens that they’re no threat. Okay, they’re still visibly very much two groups of three birds, but it’s a lot quieter than when they first went in, when the older ones didn’t like it at all. Responding with a flurry of squawks and pecks, you can see their point. It would be the same if three new unknown people came and lived in our house; we wouldn’t like it either.

But, despite reports and stories to the contrary, our six seem to be if not getting on, then doing a very good job ignoring or tolerating each other. Yes, there’s the odd peck at the food trough and we think the newer three are sleeping in the nesting box which can’t be helpful when laying time for the older three comes around (not to mention that all the shredded paper is on the floor of the outside enclosure), but overall, there’s a lot less volume than we expected quite this early on.

Mind you, Barbara, Gerry and Margot, the older three, didn’t really establish a pecking order until they started laying, so the worse may be yet to come. But for now, it’s days of the newer trio properly roosting on the small tree branches in the coop, while the older birds fuss around their feet. Bedtime got better, too, after about two days of them arriving. Gabrielle (above) finally realised she could go up the ladder to the house on her own, so there’s been no more scooping her up of the roof of the house and popping her in through the open door.

The only worrying event that’s happened is the laying of two very small eggs, which don’t appear to be from the older hens. Or if they are, someone can’t quite decided whether to go on strike (again) or to lay. But, as they’re half the size of the standard eggs we usually collect, we’re starting to question if one of the new girls is popping them out rather prematurely. That shouldn’t be possible, as they should still be seven weeks from laying. But, we wonder, is it a case of early days and early eggs?

Meet Gabrielle (she has a slightly not-quite-right bottom eyelid) one of our three new chickens. We said that we wouldn’t have a favourite, or even name the new additions to our flock, but she immediately pulled at our heart strings. We collected Gabrielle and her two ginger friends yesterday afternoon from Kirsty in Felstead (our older hens Barbara, Gerry and Margot all came from Hens4Homes, too), and although we rejected the three Black Rocks that had been put aside for collection, we’re glad we changed our minds and went for the more prolific egg layers.

Nik remembers there being Rhode Island Reds (or Rhode Rangers) on his grandparents’ farm when he was a small boy, and so it was always destined to be that we would get them at some point. Friendly, pretty, and seemingly good-natured, they seem to be the perfect choice. Giving them names and becoming attached to them wasn’t part of the plan (so we can be more ruthless when they stop laying) but, because we can tell them apart from one another, it was doomed to failure.

That they’re being picked on only adds to the bonding process. Our older three just don’t like the idea that they have a trio of interlopers in their midst, and are, quite rightly, defending their territory with a series of herding, pecking, and squawking. It’s got to happen, but it’s not fun to watch. We popped them in the Eglu Cube last night when our older three were asleep and they’ve had a tough day. That was telling tonight when we went to close them up; one was in the plastic house with her tail sticking out into the cold dark air, one was perched on the wheel underneath and poor old Gabrielle was sat on top of the Cube itself.

It would appear that they don’t like their older coop mates as much as Barbara, Gerry and Margot don’t like them. I don’t know how long the in-fighting will go on for, but a pecking order will have to be established. It might not be pretty and we’ll have to keep an eye on them at closing up time, but we can’t stop it – it is nature’s way after all.