Here is a list of books I will definitely NOT be writing;
Hens And Happiness
Chicken Keeping 101
Coping With Chickens
Happy with Hens
Can you guess why?
Yes my friends yet another chicken has left this mortal coil, bitten the dust, gone to that happy pecking ground in the sky and all the rest of it.
I am crap with chickens!
Wednesday morning dawned bright and crisp. The sky was blue and the nip in the air was on the mellow side for Scotland at this time of year. I ventured outside mug of tea in one hand and scrap bowl for the chickens in the other.
As ever my feathered friends heard me coming and bustled towards the netting fence like fat ladies running for a bus. There was Martha the Sussex white and the evil-looking raptoresque Lois. Where was Scooteloo (yes Idgy named one of them back in the summer when we had the grand total of 5) the speckled hen?
As I walked towards them rattling the bowl the thought of “ho hum maybe she’s snuffed it, another one bites the dust” flitted through my mind. Really I should keep my brain shut and quiet sometimes. No sooner had I thought this than I spotted a pair of feet sticking out of the hen-coop door.
Scooteloo was going nowhere, those feet were horizontal and dead.
The other two were clamouring for their breakfast so l leaned into the pen and put their bowl down and let them dive in with their usual shark like finesse. Meanwhile (with tea mug still in left hand of course) I leaned over the fence and angled myself to reach into the hut and remove poor old Scooteloo. Now why I didn’t put down the cup or even (more sensibly) step back and go round to open the chicken hut and remove her is due to laziness and lack of thought (who me!), instead I leaned in there.
As I gripped her feet to pull her out I realised that she was a wee bit bigger than I’d thought and had to pull harder. She fairly shot out of the hatch and the momentum of her removal threw me off-balance and I swung round waving the dead chicken in one hand and the mug of tea in the other.
Determined not to drop the mug I sort of swung crazily for a moment then the momentum was all too much and chicken, mug and I all crashed to the wet chicken shitty ground. But hey, the mug was still intact and in my hand and only a bit of the tea had escaped – what a woman!
I clambered to my feet and stepped back away from chickenland. Unfortunately I had inadvertently got my foot through the netting fence and as I stepped backwards the fence came with me. I did the most stupid thing possible, I shook my foot – hard. The fence shook too, then it fell down and wrapped round my foot and of course this time I fell backwards and let go of everything.
There I was in a tangle of dirty netting on the shitty wet ground covered in tea with a dead chicken on my chest and the two remaining live chickens leaping over me thoroughly over excited at this sudden fenceless freedom.
After I’d disentangled myself and fixed the fence, rounded up the hens and disposed of the corpse, I wandered back to the house. Removed my smelly clothes and went about making another cup of tea.
Sitting at the table I looked out at the muddy garden and the two chickens peering at me through the fence and pondered on hen keeping, eggs and why the hell I bother.
Two thoughts spring to mind;
Maybe this chicken lark is not for me.
Thank God I don’t have turkeys!