Our eldest made himself very useful by clearing out the run (a task much easier for a small person) while our youngest was followed around by an eager crowd of greedy hens being fed freshly unearthed worms. The ever tolerant husband and I ummed and aahed for a bit as to the best way to move the extended Convent, and in the end settled for stripping it down as much as possible and then just going for it in the hope that it wouldn't disintegrate.
As I gripped one end, the ever tolerant husband got in to the run, flipped back the hinged roof of the extended 'conservatory' area and stood up clutching both sides. With an agreed signal, we shuffle-walked the coop down the garden. The chooks watched this bizarre procession silently. Landing the Convent near the greenhouse, I set about putting it back together while the ever tolerant husband set about moving the compost bin.
The girls tentatively approached their home in its new location. A fair bit of chuntering ensued, as they explored this odd turn of events. They embarked on a tour of the accomodation, making sure that everything was as it should be, albeit eight foot further down the garden than they were used to. Deciding that this wasn't too bad a circumstance, they resumed sunbathing.
Moving the compost bin proved trickier than first imagined, with the result that a good deal of half composted, er, compost, is now in a heap where the new patio is to go. Now, for us, this isn't a disaster, but it isn't a blessing either. The same could not be said from the chooks' point of view. They have enjoyed a veritable banquet of squirmy, squiggly things.
The ladies investigate the goodies available on the compost heap.
Mabel, Margot, Kiki, Doris, Maeve and Maude.
Mabel is Queen of the Castle.
Margot and Kiki.
Purdy puts her best foot forward.
Mabel, Maeve and Doris investigating their relocation.
All in all, not a bad day.