why chickens make the best pets.

Whilst I am busy unpacking boxes in the new house I thought I would share a small thought for the day on...

why chickens make the best pets

(seriously)

They are pets that provide you with breakfast food.  As our chickens tend towards the 'well f***ing free range' (as my mother's partner refers to their inability to stay cooped up) the mornings are a daily egg hunt but ultimately, for sour dough bread and poached eggs, it is worth it!  (Pictured is Bunty's current nest in the sage plant).



Believe it or not, chickens are actually pretty cuddly.  Whilst our chucks put the Chicken Run chickens to shame with their escapology-abilities, should a human of any size go outside they cannot resist running up for a smooch and bit of attention.  Even the initially anti-social chickens become cuddlers within a couple weeks of moving in.



Chickens are hilarious looking. End of.



Living with chickens is like have a personal, low budget version of Tom and Jerry on your doorstep - here Bunty (the white) is stalking Feathers (the charcoal).  It may not involve anvils and catapults but it is still pretty entertaining.  Spoiler: it usually ends anticlimactically with Bunty realising that Feathers doesn't actually have anything tasty to eat and pottering off to bother a different chicken.



Sticky burrs, flecks of food or anonymous dust and dirt on your clothes?  The chicken will peck you clean.  Drawback - there is no magic word to get them to stop and they are not discerning of toes or tights and will leave holes.



Chickens have a deep and profound interest in anything that you might be doing.  If you don't pay them attention, they will develop a deep and profound desire to attempt to eat whatever it is you might be doing.


(Apologies for the immediate re-use of this picture but it cracks me up so bad)!  Chickens have a knack of photobombing and ruining pictures.  Here I was setting up to take a picture of a caterpillar which, after she had finished investigating (and pecking) my camera, Feathers artfully ate.



Quiet companionship is often provided.



Chickens really are the best pets.

Farmyard fun; the Mid-Somerset Show and a new addition to the household.

Sunday was the big event where I come from - the Mid-Somerset Show (or locally just Shepton Show).  This is the attraction of the summer holidays.  Us South-West types flock from miles around to see award winning cows, pigs, chickens and even guinea pigs!


 

Or, more honestly, to sample the local cheeses and ciders (for the non-pregnant) and coo over the super cute piglets.

(those curly tails just make me melt)

There is even a dog show for the competitively inclined (little known fact - when I was about nine or ten, I took our dog, Nessie, in for one of the shows.  I came second place for the 'best bitch' award.  It took a long while for me to realise why my mother found that particular success so amusing).

This year just mum and I went (James is currently on his eighth 13 hour shift in a row - boo) and, whilst not usually one for impulse purchases, what with all the farmyard excitement we got a little carried away... please meet Feathers McGraw, the latest chicken to the flock!



Only slightly cruely, she was packaged up in a box that once contained chicken nuggets.  The box proudly proclaims 53% chicken on its side.



She is a gorgeous Blue Marran hybrid and, since being introduced to the other girls, is in a bit of a sulk.  She flew out this morning and has spent the day sitting on the wall between ours and the neighbours' garden, as though deciding which side will offer her the better future.  So I am off to bribe her with pasta and lettuce scraps...

Happy Monday! 

A morning with the (poultry) girls.

The animals have been having a funny morning.  Whilst these pictures of Ginger are a couple days old, this has sight is fast become part of morning routine.  Ginger literally comes and knocks/pecks on the back door until, still in my PJs, I give up on sleep and take her back up to her roost.  That top middle picture cracks me up - this is how she greets me as I swing open the door!

This morning, post-ginger-visitation, I clambered back into bed trying to recapture those last fleeting vestiges of sleep when the door went again.  I gave in, got dressed and headed to the back door.  To my surprise, not Ginger but Bunty was sat on the door step.  Clearly she was feeling left out of our special morning moment.

Ignoring my face of half-sleep, look at Bunty's face of concentration - this was shortly before she decided that indeed my fingers were a delicious looking snack (perhaps a little worm like?) and gave them a hefty peck.

We finally figured out how they escape (and I guess Bunty must have learnt from Ginger).  They are in an enclosure surrounding by netting on all four sides and on top.  They jump on top of their roost, hop from foot-to-foot in preparation then launch themselves, wings tight to their sides, through the holes in the netting.  Once through they then open their wings and glide, gently, to the ground.  Very smart for a little chicken huh?!

(all pictures taken on my phone, hence the grainy-ness).

introducing my new morning routine.

So we are unpacked and settled in and I’m currently getting used to the new daily routine.

The routine goes much as follows: make tea whilst watching the sparrows squabble in the garden (the curse of having the side of the bed closest to the door means I am now on morning tea duty). Return to bed with tea.  Tea is interrupted by the sound of a chicken.  Pull on jumper and boots in a hurry and run outside to find Ginger making bid for freedom #1 of the day.  Catch Ginger, put her back.  Chickens make such a racket they require feeding.  Collect eggs, only one again today.  Have got chicken poo on my pyjamas.  Urgh.

Try to return to bed, the dogs start feeling bereft that I have clearly ignored them in favour of the chickens and start whining.  I lie in bed with James for about 2 minutes listening to them whine.  Give up any hope of relaxing and get up to walk the dogs.   

Return home, find Ginger undertaking bid for freedom #2; operation eat mum’s lettuces.  Catch and return Ginger. 

Finally get inside, still not 9am.  Tea has gone cold.

I am loving the pace of life here (in no way sarcastic), I mean what the heck did I used to do with my mornings?!