The other inhabitants of Domestic Executive HQ have had their ups and downs whilst I’ve been away. My lovely ladies and the manic rooster George were up to their usual tricks but little did they know that their minders would be much less tolerant of their feral ways.
They were put through their paces with twice daily counts to ensure that they were all present and correct. When of course my tree living chickens didn’t comply with the roll call they had their card marked.
My neighbours were determined that they would get all the chickens into the hen house to sleep and resorted to creeping around in the dark to capture the elusive feral chickens and bring them back to the roost. In order to keep them in line they were then locked into the chicken pen. You’d think that would have done the trick. Oh no, not for my ladies they are much more cunning than that.
These ladies decided that no fence was going to keep them in and promptly flew out of the pen to settle themselves back down into the bush area. I can only imagine the annoyance and frustration my determined chicken keepers were. But they didn’t give up and went back in the dead of night to recapture the escapees.
After their recapture they had their wings clipped. Literally, to keep them much closer to the ground. To be doubley sure there was extra netting as an added measure. At last my neighbours could rest easy with their chicken sitting duties.
George it seems took over the hen keeping responsibilities and has been determined to keep these ladies in order. It’s just as well. These hens have an important business to be attending to – producing lots and lots of lovely eggs. They haven’t let me down and we are now completely overwhelmed with the amount of eggs we’ve got. Luckily I do have lots of lovely friends and neighbours who are always pleased to have some of our surplus.
My sickly chicken beep is doing well in her recovery pen and box in the barn. I still have hopes that she’ll make a full recovery. She is definitely not up to George’s bullying ways so it will be wee while yet before I let her back with the rest of the flock.
It’s also going to be a bit longer before I take the plunge and let the ladies back into the bush too. I’m not sure that I could face my neighbours if I had to tell them that the chickens were back in the trees. Also collecting the eggs from the nesting boxes is so much better than grovelling around in the gorse.
Despite their troublesome ways it’s been a joy to be back looking after my chickens. As time has gone on I’ve come to appreciate their individuality. There is no doubt though the biggest prize is to enjoy their eggs fresh. Now all I need is to find a way of truly appreciating the madness of our Rooster George. That I think may take some time and a wild imagination.