Thursday, 7 May 2009
Eeeek!
Well, I've bitten the bullet. Maeve is currently shut into the run, and Maude, Mini and Belinda are in the nest box. The other two are munching around the flower beds. After initially panicking, Maeve has settled down to scratch around the easibed in the run. I'm just waiting for the fireworks once one of the others comes down the ramp.....
This Means War!
Now, I love my girls. Their chickenny pottering makes me smile, and their chicken chatter soothes my life frazzled nerves. I love standing at the sink, doing some dull domestic task, and glancing out of the window to see them tearing about the garden chasing whichever one of them has caught a worm. It still makes me laugh the way they turn their heads to the side to look up at the rain, only to run around in a panic when a drop hits them in the eye. They are brilliant, magnificent pets.
However, they have zero respect for my other great love: gardening. They poo copiously over my lawn. They eat my favourite plants, or sit on them. My beloved greenhouse is pebble dashed in chicken poo and feathers. Maeve has taken to sitting on my seedlings when she wants a nap. Enough is enough.
The feeble barrier around the Convent is getting an overhaul this weekend. I'm not sure how yet, but I will devise a way to keep the little vandals contained. A concerted effort is going to be made to move Maeve from my greenhouse, so that instead of growing mounds of droppings, I can start growing my salads. A broody cage is in the process of being obtained so that Belinda can be returned to her slightly less psychotic laying state.
In short, I'm taking back control.
However, they have zero respect for my other great love: gardening. They poo copiously over my lawn. They eat my favourite plants, or sit on them. My beloved greenhouse is pebble dashed in chicken poo and feathers. Maeve has taken to sitting on my seedlings when she wants a nap. Enough is enough.
The feeble barrier around the Convent is getting an overhaul this weekend. I'm not sure how yet, but I will devise a way to keep the little vandals contained. A concerted effort is going to be made to move Maeve from my greenhouse, so that instead of growing mounds of droppings, I can start growing my salads. A broody cage is in the process of being obtained so that Belinda can be returned to her slightly less psychotic laying state.
In short, I'm taking back control.
Tuesday, 5 May 2009
Back Again
We spent the bank holiday weekend in Dublin, visiting the ever tolerant husbands family and generally jollying about the place enjoying ourselves. Despite the youngest sons attempts to smuggle Belinda into the back of the car, we had to leave the girls behind and our lovely animal loving neighbour took charge.
The afternoon before departure, said neighbour popped around to receive her instructions. I seriously doubt that even a neurotic first time mother leaving her tiny babe for the first time would have been so precise and detailed. I wittered on for some considerable minutes about food preferences, social dynamics and the fact that Belinda was doing her best cow pat impression in the nestbox. Realising that my audience was beginning to glaze over, I cut to the chase.
On the morning of departure, I spent a frantic twenty minutes sorting out food, water and checking that the gate was locked and bolted. Then checking again. Then once more for luck. At this point the ever tolerant husband frog marched me to the car, determined that we would not miss our ferry because of his obsessive compulsive wife.
A lovely time was had by all, despite the youngest sons assertions on day one that he wanted to go home right away because he missed his chickens. While secretly sharing his sentiment, I jollied him along and he contented himself with drawing endless portraits of his beloved Lindy.
On arriving home, the first port of call was the coop. With relief, I saw Mabel, Maude, Mini and Doris clamouring at the door, bokking their little hearts out. Lifting the nest box lid, we found Lindy hopelessly trying to incubate some eggs. Maeve leaped from the greenhouse like a rocket and ran around our feet in joyful circles.
I sneakily fed them all some cherry cake, just to celebrate our home coming.
The afternoon before departure, said neighbour popped around to receive her instructions. I seriously doubt that even a neurotic first time mother leaving her tiny babe for the first time would have been so precise and detailed. I wittered on for some considerable minutes about food preferences, social dynamics and the fact that Belinda was doing her best cow pat impression in the nestbox. Realising that my audience was beginning to glaze over, I cut to the chase.
On the morning of departure, I spent a frantic twenty minutes sorting out food, water and checking that the gate was locked and bolted. Then checking again. Then once more for luck. At this point the ever tolerant husband frog marched me to the car, determined that we would not miss our ferry because of his obsessive compulsive wife.
A lovely time was had by all, despite the youngest sons assertions on day one that he wanted to go home right away because he missed his chickens. While secretly sharing his sentiment, I jollied him along and he contented himself with drawing endless portraits of his beloved Lindy.
On arriving home, the first port of call was the coop. With relief, I saw Mabel, Maude, Mini and Doris clamouring at the door, bokking their little hearts out. Lifting the nest box lid, we found Lindy hopelessly trying to incubate some eggs. Maeve leaped from the greenhouse like a rocket and ran around our feet in joyful circles.
I sneakily fed them all some cherry cake, just to celebrate our home coming.
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