Chicken Run

Cliff was my first wife's cousin and worked at the farm for many years before permanently taking over one of the two milk rounds. He was in charge of the Battery house. This was one of Raymond's main money spinners and had been designed along the lines of a second world war prisoner of war camp. A long pitched roof building extended almost half the length of a field. Inside the prisoners enjoyed a choice of either of four long four high tenement cages. The noise was deafening, the stink was vile, the dust and cobwebs did little to allay the first two features, and there was an abundance of rats enjoying copious amounts of food and the occasional egg.

None of these birds lived to enjoy a well earned pension. Those that didn't survive until neck pulling day simply gave up the ghost, collapsed and died in their cage, only to be cannibalised by their cell mate. The resulting tangled mess of entrails would then be passed along the cages as each adjoining neighbour clamoured to get their share. If the body was not too mutilated, Raymond would act both as mortician and embalmer, skillfully cleaning up the corpse, trussing it and offering it to his customers on the milk round as a plump happy free-range pullet. At the end of each of the chicken cages was a large winding handle. Attached to this was a roll of agricultural lavatory paper, heavy duty stuff three feet wide with a bituminous coating. The constant droppings from the prisoners collected on this, and by winding the handle was efficiently transported to an awaiting wheelbarrow, whence it was emptied onto the 'heap'. Every time a chicken lays an egg it obeys a prehistoric throwback of letting the world know what it has just done. There was a constant supply of eggs and noise to accompany it! Collection was done twice a day, chickens that didn't perform took an early trip to the milk round!

During the summer the smell of the Battery houses travelled for miles. This was only surpassed by the pervading odour released in the Autumn when the 'heap' was spread over the adjacent fields. Each new prisoner had to be de-beaked to stop them eating their cell mate. Raymond excelled at this task, holding the head with one hand whilst applying a red hot iron to remove the end quarter of an inch of pointed beak. His comment of "Well it has to be done" always made me think of his reaction had the boot been on the other foot and the chickens were put in charge of circumcisions!

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