Well, we have finally managed it. I know I have been procrastinating, but La D has finally won me round. She used a sort of carrot and stick approach. She knows I hate carrots and my pain levels are woefully low – this was probably the main reason I never held a 00 position. If I had ever been captured, all my interrogator would need to do would be to get out a nail file to clean his nails and I would be on the floor weeping, spilling everything I knew about MI6 and the connections with the CIA. Anyway La D’s methods, whilst lacking subtlety were extremely effective. The bruising doesn’t show and I can still walk, but with a slight limp.
No the real reason I have been prevaricating is that I really could not get my head round how to make a coop out of six pieces of old wood or varying lengths, widths and states of decay. So, we ended up with the one you see in the picture which we picked up from a local wood yard. At least it’s a start .
This morning we picked up these beauties.
We have been told that it is not a good idea to give chickens names. Apparently, it can be quite upsetting for those of a queasy disposition, to sit down one Sunday lunchtime and tuck into Flora or Hatty, all because she stopped laying eggs. So we thought we would give them a collective name and refer to them as First Degree, Second Degree and Third Degree. This of course still individualises them, however it also raises the possibility of having some literary fun in the future. We’ll have to see.
At the moment they are getting used to their new home and not moving too much, perhaps they are hot like we are. Hopefully they will settle down quickly and we would hope for a first egg in about a couple of weeks. It was quite funny buying them. We went to the “Chicken Man” at the local market, only to find that today he was only selling feed. When we asked him about the hens, he told us his brother was selling them out of his van a few kilometres from there. You can’t miss the place, he’s parked in front of an Italian KwikFit.
Slightly bemused we made our way there and right enough there was this lorry with quite a few people milling about at the back. He seemed to be doing an awful lot more trade than the Gommista (tyre shop).
We gave him our order and he picked out three of them and a bag of food and we were on our way.
Bertie was interested, but it appeared, not overly. He has been used to the hens of our neighbours. But when they start to come out and scratch about, then we will really see if the Berts is interested. We obviously hope not.
Why three? Well we reckon that allows for one not laying and if we have a few too many eggs sometimes, it’s a good policy to give a few away to neighbours. Also, we have read that if you introduce a new bird to an established group\there can be some argy-bargy with the new one getting a bit of a raw deal. This of course is where the term “hen-pecked” comes from. What do you mean, how do I know about hen-pecking?
Pussies Galore
Well, we have passed the critical two week period, which, in the past, has seen the disappearance of kittens that we know about being born. All their eyes are open and they are crawling all over the place in their wicker basket.
They are lovely, as any small animal is – I’m not so keen on baby spiders or very young jellyfish, they really don’t seem to do much for me – but it’s when they grow bigger and start demanding to be fed. Bertie of course thinks it is wonderful. Something more to play with.
A slightly worrying development has occurred. La D has been talking out loud about whelping times and kitten food. I have been pretending not to hear, however La D has now taken to shouting out her thoughts right in my ear which makes trying to pretend I haven’t heard. I could go totally deaf I suppose and blame it on the decibel level that I have had to endure. Hmmmmm.
We think we can get homes for maybe two of them, but that still leaves two.
Anybody wanting to adopt, just drop the website a line.
Vegetable Output
Shockingly vast, but the neighbours are loving it too.
Weather
Phew!
Ciao, mantenere la fede
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