Doris has gone in to moult in the last few days. Copious amounts of silvery feathers are blowing about the garden making the place look untidy. The moulting hen seems quite embarassed about the whole situation and is lurking in the shrubbery, leaving soft piles of fluff every time she moves. The rest of the flock are being generously decorated, and Purdy spent a good ten minutes yesterday trying to remove one of Doris's knicker feathers from her comb. The Palace's grounds are a swirling mass of ex-Doris. I am secretly hoping for gale force winds just to tidy the place up a bit.
Maeve has been busy in the garden this week. She finally managed to dig up one of my recently planted daffodil bulbs. Not content with this minor act of vandalism, she dragged it over to the back step and left it there while I was eating a sandwich. The Dark One eyeballed me through the patio door, just to make sure that we understood each other. Attempting to plant things in her dust bath was not going to end well. With a resigned sigh, I replanted the bulb in a less sunny spot. She is training me well.
Gladys and Hilda are still running the flock gauntlet with aplomb. Celia has taken to giving them a hard time during her infrequent forays from the nest. They out run her easily, and follow impressive figure or eight routes around the other girls before coming back together to compare notes. Celia is benefitting from the exercise, but getting increasingly psychotic. Any day now she will explode through indignation.
In other news, it's possible that two more pretty ladies will be joining them by Christmas. Details to follow....