Open Features: Those Strange Hens
Hedley Haigh's Uncle Tom was among the first folk in Britain to keep Barneveld hens. Young Hedley was regularly pestered by school friends who were eager to see the unfamiliar birds.
Years ago, anyone who owned a scrap of this "sceptered isle" kept hens. You didn't need a lot of land to get involved in this wonderful hobby.
As children we could reel off the names of all the popular breeds like the youngsters of today know the names of their pop stars.
There were Rhode Island Red, White Leghorn, Black Leghorn, Plymouth Rock, Buff Orpington, Minorca, Light Sussex, and White Wyandotte -and more!
When the Geography teacher mentioned Rhode Island State in America. or Leghorn Province in Italy we used to proudly say "My hens come from there.‘’
But The teacher never mentioned the district of Barneveld in Holland. It's only very recently, since my son persuaded me to go on the Internet and I discovered the wonders of Google, that I have found out there really is such a place.
The names Barneveld and Barnevelder have stuck with me for over 70 years. My Uncle Tom had eight Bamevelder hens in the 1920's.
He must have been one of the first people in our area to keep these exotic birds. I've discovered through Google that this breed was introduced into Britain after the 1914-18 war.
We never knew how Uncle Tom came to keep them, but I was the envy of all my friends and was constantly being pestered to let them see those “strange hens’’.
The attraction really was in the colour of the eggs. We had all seen brown eggs but these were so dark brown in colour they looked like chocolate eggs. Plain chocolate, not milk chocolate!!
In fact if Ron Atkinson was describing them he would have to turn the mike off!! (There was a colour in those days called N***** Brown).
For my Uncle Tom, a shy retiring man living with his widowed mother, these hens were his pride and joy. He had a small hen-run and he used to brush the grass with a besom until every blade shone.
Folk used to think he was eccentric but his hens knew better. They used to eat the blades of grass, peck the grit and thoroughly enjoy themselves.
Uncle Tom had an old wooden chair in the hen-run .The hens were "fastened up" at night, then in the morning he would open the "flap" sit on his chair with his pipe in his mouth and watch these "super-models" strut down the cat-walk - or should that be the hen-walk?
He would contentedly sit there for hours.
I will never forget Uncle Tom - and I cannot forget the name Barnevelder!
Oh I’ve just remembered the name of another breed, Marans. They layed an even darker-coloured egg - but they are not as memorable to me. Uncle Tom never kept them!
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