Since my last post, I have been contacted by my chook palace provider to give me a delivery date of next wednesday. Woo hoo! The patio was completed last week, and I am eager now to get the girls moved in to their new residence (not least of all because my lawn is suffering. Badly). They have christened the patio copiously, and I am frantically scooping the poop before the ever tolerant husband has an aneurism.
Last night, I forgot to shut the pop hole. I paid dearly for this oversight. Margot let rip at 6am, and I blearily found my way in to my dressing gown before blundering down the stairs. Seeing that all was well, I'm ashamed to say that I rather lost my temper with the gobby alarm-hen. Taking two slices of bread with me, I stalked across the lawn hissing at her to shut up. Naturally, she ignored me. In fact, Doris took this as encouragement to join in. I bad temperedly lobbed the bread at the two of them. Margot got it square in the face, shrieked indignantly at me, then began scoffing. I missed Doris, who watched me thoughtfully.
This was bad chicken-keeping practice. Rewarding bad behaviour is the road to ruin. Tonight, they will once again be locked in. It has left me with a rather thorny problem, though. We are planning on a holiday in the summer, and my chicken keeper pal will be looking after the girls. Normally, I would leave the pop hole open, but I can't risk the horrendous din. It would be deeply unfair on my lovely neighbours.
A solution must be found.