The Poorly Carer

Poorly carers are worth their weight in gold and Pat Forster is a cracker. She has been a supporter since 2014 and raised thousands to help our hens.

Georgy, a special hen

Here’s Pat’s story :

From an early age there were chickens in my life. My grandparents had a farm with a large flock of hens and every summer holiday I had the joyous task of egg collecting. The rest of the year I had to make do with our own six backyard hens which, I remember, seemed so heavy in my small arms as I gave them tours of the garden, each in turn, and buried my face in their soft feathers, loving their warmth and sweet smell.

It wasn’t until later in life that my husband and I began serious chicken keeping. Annie and Beryl we rescued from a miserable existence in a muddy caravan park. They were housed in a rickety little run from which they frequently escaped, managing to find a worm or two before discovery by their owner who was clearly relieved to get them off his hands when we offered to take them. They were large black hens, Annie very friendly and gentle, Beryl a bully, cross-eyed and feisty.

Then I discovered the BHWT and the wonderful advice that was available for all hens’ health problems. Annie had developed peritonitis and our local vets could not help. Gaynor Davies and charity vet at the time, Marcella Perversi, stepped in to help and Marcella has treated our hens ever since.

Four of our ‘poorlies’ came from Gaynor’s kitchen where we found them huddled next to a radiator, looking pathetic. It was just after Christmas so we kept them indoors too where we could intervene if any bullying started. It was a noisy, messy few weeks while we waited for new feathers to grow and outside temperatures to improve, but eventually all four were enjoying the spring sunshine.

Toots was our smartest hen. On collection day she let it be known that she was coming home with us, pushing past the others and claiming our attention with her strident voice. She went on to be our no. 1 escape artist, forever finding ways out of the garden, fences meant nothing to her, she just sailed over the top. She never cared for the company of other hens, it was human company she enjoyed, climbing all over us whenever we were seated or kneeling in the garden.

All our chickens have shared our home at some point in their lives. Angel and Toots became fully resident house hens when they showed signs of age and our warm kitchen was clearly where they had always wanted to be, perhaps remembering their early days with us.

Angel, much-loved resident house hen Each of the ex-bats and other waifs and strays that have found their way to our door have had their own unique personalities and given us so much pleasure. And I feel privileged to have been able to give a few hens a better life and I’m so grateful to the Trust for their help and support along the way.