Of Birds and Bees

Although I wrote the last post on Friday morning, I didn't get chance to publish it before I went away  to the BBKA convention. I think I shall have to write a separate post all about the convention as I have returned absolutely buzzing (of course) with ideas, in fact I stuffed my brain so full of new information that half way through the last lecture it put up the full signs and refused to accept any more.
I have returned earlier than I hoped, I wanted to stay the full three days but Sunday is the education day where there are all day workshops which must be pre booked, with only a few ad hoc lectures so it was not too difficult to decide to come home early. This is for two reasons, firstly it is the funeral of my cousin's husband tomorrow. Ian was a lovely man described rather surprisingly, by my sister in an email of condolence  to his brother in law, as a centaur. She meant that in the sixties, he was so outside our experience that he seemed almost mythical, our lower middle class childhood in an unexceptional suburb of Leeds, did not include handsome wealthy young business men who drove Aston Martins. Some of the boys of our acquaintance actually thought he was James Bond. He was also funny and down to earth and I am very sad at his death.
However because of the funeral, one of my other sisters is coming to stay so I thought it would not be a bad idea if I came home early to give the homestead a wash and brush up. This idea was further reinforced by a phone call I had with Rosie on Friday, when she realised that she didn't have her key and was locked out of the house all weekend. This didn't matter for Rosie, who could easily stay at her Dad's but the quail in the brooder box would be unattended for 48 hours.
So I changed my plans, after the last lecture on Saturday, I went and bought two new chickens. They are a new hybrid, Fenton Rose, and I have long fancied their sister the Fenton Blue to satisfy my hankering for blue eggs. They are only sold by two or three suppliers so it was convenient that one of them is based on the road between Newport,  where the convention was, and the M6. Chickens safely in their box, I went back to my motel and in half an hour had a shower, a burger, a cup of tea and caught up on the news, and then set off for home at 7.30. Later I wished I hadn't taken that half hour's rest.
Unlike Friday morning, the motorways were clear and I had a good drive, getting home about 9.30. I put the new chickens straight into the hen house, hoping that introducing them when the others were asleep would make it easier for them to be accepted in the morning and then went to check on the brooder. My worst fears, that the heat-lamp would set fire to their bedding, had not been realised. My second worst fears had, I only had three quail in the box, three were missing. I eventually tracked them down to a corner under the sofa. One was dead and another was dying. I tortured myself wondering if I hadn't taken that half hour's rest or I hadn't stopped to buy the chickens, I might have been in time to save the dying quail. I raised the heat-lamp to just above the box so that I could put a grid across to prevent further escapes. However this morning, Tiny Quail, the one that hatched on Thursday was looking very poorly. By raising the lamp I suspect I made it too cold for her, I lowered it again but she was not looking good.