Having a quail of a time

For my birthday this year Mark bought me six Cortunix Quail hens - 3 dark Japanese, 3 lighter and larger Italian. We spent much of the two week easter holiday building them a home.
Being a keen fan of Thinking Things Through, I read everything I could find online about quail keeping so we could build them a good environment. This is what I learnt:

Quail are game birds rather than poultry. Their eggs have a higher protein proportion than hen eggs,  and as such require a much higher level of protein in their feed. They are ground-dwelling and they don't need perches, just deep litter/bedding to snuggle down in at night. They are fully grown by 6-9 weeks and will start to lay eggs from that age if conditions are right. They don't usually eggs in a nest box, just wherever they feel sheltered and private. They tend to bury their eggs, so some furtling about is required to find them.

The demanding fluff balls  need an awful lot of light to lay eggs regularly - at least 12 to 14 hours a day.  If kept outside, like mine, they need shelter from rain, places to hide if they feel threatened and most of all protection from predators like rats. Because they are only the size of a handful, that means choosing a very small mesh. I read so many reports of quail decapitated because a predator reached through the bars and grabbed them.

The darker birds are Japanese quail

Quail can fly, unlike chickens.  They stay on the ground normally but like all migratory birds, are capable of flying vast distances when needed. They jump vertically like a crazed mini Harrier Jet when startled, so need a roof over than they won't knock them out if they smack into it.

Our chickens have a lot of freedom, and we've gone to significant trouble to allow them that. The quail? Not quite the same. You can let quail free range if you really want to, but only the once.

Not much is known about quail behaviour, really. I read a study from 1997 that was very interesting, but less academic sources are pretty vague. There's plenty of anecdotal information from people who keep quail but that varies widely, and as far as I can tell that's down to how the quail are housed and the proportion of hens to cockerels.  I have all hens, so that sorts out the noise issue (quail hens make tiny little peeps and chirrups) and the fighting that some breeders reported.

Lots of people asked me if I'd be keeping the quail in with the hens. No, they have different needs, a different diet and the chooks will easily kill the quail if they perceive them as competitors for food or shelter. Some people keep quail in the bottom of aviaries with flying birds like finches or budgies, but not with chickens.

A huge number of people seem to keep them as little egg (or meat) factories, kept on wire mesh cages with no opportunity to engage in natural behaviour like foraging, dust bathing, and generally being messy balls of fluff who love to scratch away on the ground for food and fling dirt and bedding everywhere. Quail can lay from such a young age and reach their full size for meat at the same age, so as a means of producing some of your own meat, I guess they are a pretty easy way to go.  17 days to hatch, 6 weeks to grow, then table-ready.  Not really my style but fair enough.
A number of (mostly US-based) bloggers and forum members have expressed disgust at the concept of putting the quail on anything other than mesh - "They will be standing in their own faeces! That's cruel and disgusting!" I feel this view misunderstands the needs of the animal to behave in a natural way.  When managed well, deep litter systems are clean and environmentally responsible, and even shallow litter isn't mucky if you clean it regularly. It's basic pet care.
I guess that's the main difference - my quail are pets with lovely fringe benefit of eggs, not next month's dinner, so I can afford to get attached.

Our 6 quail hens have over 15 square foot to play in. Recommendations went from half a square foot in a production-based set up, to one square foot per bird. Plenty of hobbyists had larger spaces, naturally, but the guidelines were really quite tiny. We figured if we have the space, why not give it too them?

I couldn't find any plans or blueprints for quail housing that suited my intentions. Those I found were  wire cages or walk-in aviaries. So I thought about what I'd learnt and we started from scratch.

We thought a scrappy bit of border near the house would be an ideal place eventually, but our lovely next door neighbours are having a large extension at the moment on the other side of the fence. That meant we needed something that could be moved to a temporary location.

The frame

Quail don't require a nest nor roosting bars like chickens. They do, however, value a place to retreat to when cold, frightened or in awful weather. we interpreted that as a small version of a nest box with a door we could fully shut if we need to herd the quail in there while clearing the run out.

Gonzo helps Mark measure the shelter

To stop predators digging their way into the quail house, we put a sheet of mesh on the bottom of the frame as well as on the sides. I painted the timber before we assembled it fully because painting through mesh is a pain. I chose a lovely sage green in a wood stain that was pet-safe. It's worth pointing out not all wood treatments are OK for animals, so it's important to check.

Gonzo remained a keen participant

Stapling the mesh to the underside of the frame

Ideally we wanted a clear solid roof (strong enough to cope with a badly behaved cat landing on it) which is able to let light in and sloped to let the rain run off.  We used dual walled polycarbonate sheets, which were very easy to cut to size fit. We have some offcuts as well, which we can slot into the doors to provide additional shelter in winter.

The project took us most of the Easter holidays, with numerous days off for going to the wildlife park, the safari park, generally being out and about and actually celebrating my birthday as well. Rain stopped play on a few occasions and waiting between coats for the paint to dry slowed us down too. Still, in the end we had a luxury dwelling fit for the most discerning of birds.

A 5* dwelling

A Quail Palace

The Versailles des Cailles

Last bits to paint after resolving snagging issues

Ta Da!

To make their habitat more interesting for them they have a dust bath ares, some plant pots, branches, shelter and foliage. They seem very happy, and hop about with excitement when something new arrives.

How many quail can bathe at once?

They had a tendency to spill or lose their food, so holes drilled in a plastic container (and filed to make sure the edges were smooth) allows them access to food without wasting it and without taking up too much space. 

Gonzo is pretty sure we made it for his amusement

Yesterday I got 5 eggs from the 6 of them for the first time, taking me up to a total of 29 eggs so far.  We've had them hard boiled as snacks, marinated in soy sauce and garlic to eat with ramen, soft boiled to eat with the new season's asparagus and today I'm trying them pickled. Local pals, if you fancy trying some, give me a shout. It looks like we'll have plenty!
J x

Meanwhile, back on the ranch...

Hello again!
4 months since my most recent post, so I suspect I'm chatting to myself now. I either had no words, had too many, or just couldn't quite decide how to be sufficiently articulate to put my thoughts down in a coherent - and not too tedious - way.

It's been an eventful few months since I last blogged. We've had some truly marvellous moments as well as some unexpected and more challenging times. I might tell you about it later, if you like.  However, today I'm all about the livestock.

Bight, Aire, Wharfe, Rita and Starling on a bug hunt

It's been 12 years since my first Eglu, with Margot and Dolores as our new hens.  I've had around 50 hens over the years as we upgraded to a big Eglu Cube, suffered predation by foxes and Alsatians, illness, escapees getting stuck in other gardens and other poultry related mishaps, or just old age. Some had individual names for (Sarah, Ruby, Doris, Ronnie, Truffle, Starling), but mostly we named by theme:

• Chicken Supremes (Mary, Flo and Diana)
• Beatles Girls (Rita, Prudence, Eleanor, Lucy, Penny)
• SF/Fantasy TV characters (Buffy, Capricorn 6, Rose, Xena, Chloe)
• Doctor Who Companions (Sarah Jane, Donna, Martha, Ace)
• Shipping Forecast Regions (Viking, the Utsire sisters North and South, Cromarty, Forth, Tyne, Dogger, G Bight, Humber, Wight, Biscay, Finisterre, Fitzroy*, Lundy, Shannon, Rockall, Malin, Hebrides, Bailey, Faeroes)
•  Rivers (Aire, Wharfe, Nile and Amazon)
• Austen women (Elinor, Marianne, Emma)

My current hen count stands at 8, of whom the most important is Rita. She's a big heavy bird from a mixed use strain (meaning reared for both egg production and meat) and she's 10 years old. That's VERY old for a hen.  She's still a handsome beastie, with her dark grey head fading into a pipe smoke grey on her body. She's a post-menopausal lady who nevertheless is everyone's favourite.  Rita has earnt her retirement and can leave all that egg-laying malarkey to the younger lasses.

Rita's the big grey, second on the left

A word on the eggs - obviously they are delicious and there's something lovely about knowing the name of the hen who laid your brunch. Before I kept hens I didn't know that laying is light-dependent, so from late November to late January everyone downs tools for a bit.  Also, hens lay far more eggs when they are young, but the eggs get larger and larger as they get older.  A young pullet might lay a 45g egg, while a 3 year old will lay a 75g extra large. In addition, like humans being more prone to having twins when they are in their 40s, older hens are more likely to lay double yolkers. You can usually spot a ridge where the egg hasn't narrowed as usual but had to widen again for the second yolk.

Double yolkers can get pretty big

There are certainly disadvantages to keeping hens. They will eat anything they can get in their mouths, and aren't respecters of borders. If they can escape into the neighbour's garden to pinch food from the bird table, they will.  Likewise they'll make short work of my vegetable garden if they can. I've had a polytunnel of seedlings decimated when 2 hens noticed the door was open a crack.

Helpfully emptying the veg bed of greenery

Caprica 6 had a nifty trick of flying to the 6 foot fence, walking along it to the end of the chicken run and hopping down into the raspberry patch to gorge herself.
They also trash any area they are in. Even with 22 square metres to play in, my birds don't leave grass there for long.
A prolonged wet season means the run gets very smelly as the chicken poo and mud form an odiferous mire, but a cold snap or some dry weather sorts that out.

The best part of hen keeping is the liveliness they bring to a garden. They cluck and coo, take fright at a gust of wind or charge down a blackbird who wants to pinch their grain.


Hens can become incredibly tame, and they do have distinct personalities. Dolores was over-confident; when I sat at the table in the garden she'd hop onto my lap in the hopes of pinching some of my lunch. Mary, called Biffer usually, was a "come and have a go if you think you're hard enough" bird, smacking down all the feathered visitors to the backyard. Dogger was aptly named because she'd follow me around like a puppy. Rose was Miss B's hen when she was a toddler. Rose was the most patient bird I've ever seen - she'd let B pick her up and cuddle her, carry her around the garden, even put necklaces on her (which I quickly removed so she wouldn't peck them). Hebrides was an escape artist but couldn't get back in the run, so would come and knock on the door when she wanted to go back in. She taught Dogger that trick, who taught it to our cat.

Knock knock

Having hens hasn't lost its attraction at all. If anything, it was a gateway drug - from 2 hens to 3, to a big run with 8, then a larger free range area and up to 12.

Now I've entered a new level of crazy - quail. More about that in a day or so.



*Geeky footnote: Finisterre isn't a shipping region anymore but it is a lovely word. It was too easily confused with a Spanish shipping region called Finisterra, so it was renamed Fitzroy. I liked both, so I had hens called Fin and Fitz)

Birthday Hijinks

December may be given over to Christmas (despite being the birthday months of my friends, father-in-law and the fabulous Miss B) but the party doesn't stop with New Year.  With more birthdays than you can shake a stick at, January is a busy month too.

Miss B has more birthdays than the Queen. She had her ACTUAL birthday in December, celebrated with just us, a party tea in early January with her best friend Olivia and our ace WildThing Family mates who came to visit, and her party with school friends in mid January, which was divided into a party for 7 and a sleepover for 3. More of that in a moment.

Zach became a teenager this past month. We went out for dinner as a family on the night itself. With mates he didn't want a big celebration, just some close friends to sleep over after gaming through the night. He wanted a black forest cake like the one mentioned in Portal and Portal 2, but everyone knows that cake is a lie.  It said so right on top of it.
(piped with not-properly-melted chocolate on not-quite-set icing as he came down the stairs, so it was pretty messy)

Two nieces, my brother and my mum all have January birthdays as well. I'd taken over gifts for Neil and the girls with the Christmas stuff, but was uselessly behind with Mum's present.  I was making her a padded iPad cover, nice and snug to protect it when she travels, but I messed up the measurements and made it 2mm too tight. So I had to start again, and thus post it a bit late.  Not exactly ideal, but at least the finished present was nice.

I was really pleased with Bonnie's party this year.  I wanted to keep it fairly low-cost while still being loads of fun and something a little different.  Knowing how much she  loves to dress up and preen, we decided on a "photo shoot."

I ordered some photo props on sticks made from card - glasses, moustaches, bow ties - through eBay for about £4.  We moved the big mirror into the kitchen, propped it on the table as a dressing area, and heaped costume jewellery, hair clips, scarves, hats, shawls and anything else we could think or up for the kids to play with.

Using a double duvet cover hung from a shelving unit as a backdrop and old bedside lamps to improve the lighting, we had our "studio."

 A couple of old frames with the pictures and glass removed and we were set for the party guests.  Of course, we needed a couple of practise models to make sure the lights and backdrop would work ok.    What can I say, I've a face for radio.

The girls had a fantastic time.  I took the pictures with my iPhone, nothing fancy, and kept a tick sheet next to me to ensure I got several photos of each child.  I didn't want to discover as I went to print them out I had 25 of Emily and none of Aaliyah (which nearly happened. Aaliyah is much the quietest of them all).  In fact, the person I got fewest pictures of in the end was Miss B herself.  She was so busy chatting, dancing and helping her friends create 'looks' she nearly forgot to be photographed.

One girl so heavily disguised even her mum didn't immediately recognise her!

I took loads of pictures in which the kids gurned, posed, went all Vogue and gangsta, and nearly fell down laughing.  It was great fun.

Then I put out the food for them to dig into before settling them down to watch Maleficent on DVD in one room while I edited and printed off the photos in the other.  Each girl got her photos as a party bag, along with cake and sweets. I bought 3-packs of those little perspex blocks that hold a crocodile clip for displaying a photo, so each party-goer got her own best shot displayed.  I emailed the others to their mums.

All in all, with the cake, sandwiches, brownies, mini-cupcakes, crisps, hummus, veg sticks, grapes, blackcurrant squash, party bag bits and photo paper, I think the cost of the party came to under £40.  My Very Excellent Mate Kirsty loaned us the DVD and most of the dressing up things were items we had already - especially hats.  We do love hats. One of the most fun and affordable parties I've done in ages. 

Before I took the photo studio down, Luke did a quick Zombie Apocalypse 3-D pose. Try not have nightmares OK? If you feed him pizza he probably won't kill you.

Say cheese

When I was writing that list of things I am nervous of or uncomfortable with, it occurred to me that I haven't told you about one of my biggest fears, and how a true artist helped me get over it.

There are almost no photographs of me. I ensure I am the one behind the camera whenever possible. My next tactic is to be the one who orders the prints from Costco, and I carefully select the ones I'm not in - or crop myself out if practical.  I've even gone so far as to remove pictures of myself and surreptitiously bin them when other people showed me photos.

I know women who've had those soft-focus movie star makeover type photographs and loved them. Those friends had sworn I'd love the experience - someone to do my hair and make up, pose me and style me like a Hollywood goddess. Or, in some cases, underwear model, perish the thought. They said it was really fun and helped them relax in front of a camera. I couldn't think of anything more dreadful than being styled as an actress - mutton dressed as ham.

I hated seeing myself.  I could only see all the deeply unattractive physical traits and no sense of who I am at all. I would even do my best to avoid mirrors; I came home from clothes shopping wanting to cry more often than not.

Then my perspective changed.

In early summer 2012 Mark commented that there was an interesting sounding event at a small art gallery in Leeds. He'd spotted it on Twitter - an exhibition called One Hundred and Forty Characters by photographer Chris Floyd.

Chris Floyd is a Properly Famous photographer. He has a number of his photographs in the National Portrait Gallery. He's photographed a Beatle and a Doctor and a whole host of other cultural icons. To promote the exhibition White Cloth Gallery was offering black and white portrait shoots by Chris for tuppence ha'penny.

I looked at the preview of the photos and they looked familiar. I  pulled out How To Be A Woman by Caitlin Moran from my bookcase. There it was - the cover photo, although colourised, was from the same project.

I absolutely love the cover of How To Be A Woman. The picture captures the personality, warmth and humour of Caitlin. I never look at it without smiling. So if I wanted a portrait of my kids, who better to take them than the man who took it?

Our eldest, Luke, loathed the idea. I could understand that. I thought it would be churlish to expect him to do something I was too scared to do myself, so with a last look at Caitlin Moran's picture as motivation, I rang the White Cloth Gallery and booked 2 sessions - the 3 kids then all 5 of us.

When we arrived that Saturday we had a look at the pictures in the exhibition. Chris Floyd has a wonderful style. There is nothing of him intruding in the portraits; they are sort of ego-less. Each exists to give a essence of the person he's photographing. They are so revealing - of personality rather than of flesh - but not invasive or awkward. It's clear each subject was enjoying being photographed.

I loved them, but was distracted by my nerves.

When we were first called in, the stiff and resentful posture of the kids made me worry this was a bad idea. This is how it started:

Hmm. 

Chris wasn't remotely daunted. He talked to the kids while moving them around, using the dynamics between them to play to their strengths.  Within a couple of minutes we had this:

They had loosened up, were mucking about and relaxing, and paving the way for some lovely pictures. One of my favourites is this:

Even Luke, stiff and scowling at the start, was having fun. 

When it was time for Mark and I to appear in the photographs I felt myself tense up. I felt slightly sick. A print was included in the price, so we would HAVE to have a photo, and maybe even show it to people. My fixed grin, my fat carcass, my lack of fashion sense, my plain face and double chins... all my faults there on display, ruining a portrait of my gorgeous kids and lovely bloke. Oh god.

It was all a stupid plan. What was I thinking? Chris was lovely (he signed my Caitlin Moran book too) but it was still ME he was photographing and I am not an attractive woman.  I mean, I am, I have attractive traits - I am enthusiastic, hard working, creative and a good mum most of the time - but if seeing my face reflected on my iPad screen makes me upset a photo of me would be worse.

 And then...

It was OK. I mean, I felt a bit weird being photographed but following instructions from Chris and keeping an eye on the 3 kids gave me enough distraction most of the time. Some of the things were silly - standing po-faced, then shrieking like banshees - and some were just about letting our relationships and the family dynamic come through.

Then I saw the finished pictures. We looked wonderful. We looked like us - ourselves distilled in a moment of time. The relationships between us, the way we feel about each other, it was all there. Our youngest riding on her brother's shoulders, messing with my hair; his amused face tolerating her imperiousness through his curtain of curly hair; my arm on Luke's shoulder to help him bear her weight; how Mark and Zach's eyes are just the same shape, although different colours; Mark tousling Z's hair as Zach laughs ruefully at himself. 

We didn't look perfect, but we looked both real and beautiful.

I looked beautiful.

I looked like what I am - a woman who is part of a busy, warm, playful family. I'm still fat, my double chins are there and you can't see much of my clothing to decide on my fashion sense, but I'm not plain faced. I've the face of someone who loves the people she is with and it shows. 

When Chris Floyd returned to The White Cloth Gallery in November, it was a large print of that final portrait that greeted people. As we walked in, the woman at the desk said "You look familiar, have we met?" "No, but you've been looking at me all week!"

We'd told so many of our friends not to miss the chance to be photographed by him that the gallery generously gave us that print at the end of the show.  It doesn't hang in our bedroom, for just us to see. It doesn't even hang in the living room, where we spend our evenings. It's in the hall as you come in the house, hanging alongside two more Chris took. Every visitor, delivery person, friend and neighbour sees Chris's pictures of us as they enter. They make me smile every time I look at them.

That experience had a broader affect than you'd think. I've posted pictures - including DEEPLY unflattering ones - of myself on this blog before now. That's something I would never have done before meeting Chris.  I don't try and run away from cameras, I don't crop myself out of any snaps we take.  

I haven't magically been transformed into camera loving model, but I don't feel scared of them any more. I see myself differently. I don't hate my appearance - or at least not most of the time. I still don't like mirrors much.

We gave White Cloth Gallery some money, and they gave us some photographs. But what Chris Floyd gave me was something altogether more valuable, something it took his skill and artistry to achieve. I didn't need a soft-focus makeover photo shoot to like my appearance better. The image of myself I carry inside my head is that photograph Chris took; loved and loving, broad smile, expressive face, and a good heart. 

Now that's a gift I wish I could give everyone. 

Note - all photographs are copyright Chris Floyd as per the watermark. They are used with his permission,  granted to me because he's a very nice bloke. Please don't repost other people's photos without permission, it's rather churlish. And probably illegal.