The Hens

An indulgent chickeny page to pay tribute to our beautiful hens. We have a mixed bag of types we know not what… some with feathered feet, some Sussex Whites and a tremendous breed, the ‘Black Jobs’. We are unfussed. We have often been given dearly loved chooks that are perhaps the last of a batch for whatever a reason. The little grey one was the survivor of the dreaded fox so she came to us and we adore her …she likes to be cuddled.

We like to think they are happy hens and we get masses of bright orange rich eggs. I recently bought some cheaply from a supermarket which were pale and watery and completely toe-curling. Scrambled egg making involved lots of peering into the pan that was being passed back and forth. Hmm…does curdled come under the description of scrambled? It was good to buy them just to remind ourselves of why we keep our own.

In winter they can have the run of the garden but confess to feeling completely murderous when they have scratched up all my seeds and my neighbour must cower when she hears the insults and the thud of a trowel. They now must be kept locked up through the summer. Sounds a bit heartless but they have a long run and plenty of space and the odd shrub and things to climb on and places to shelter. They have a pretty hutch and old chestnut fencing and Rosa glauca has been planted all around it so that it will scramble up and around it in a wild fashion.  There is probably not as much sun as the plants would like but am hoping that it will be just enough less to inhibit growth just slightly.

If some digging is going I will let them out. Its a tiny bit annoying to have them at your feet dicing death with spade while on a somewhat desperate look out for worms. Or else I get Miss H on the case and she chucks fat worms and slugs into their run.

Happy chickeny days…..

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