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.

harvest time and moving time.

The big news is, on Saturday, James and I will be moving into our new house in Bristol.  I am so excited to have everything back out of storage and start again the challenge of making another rented house somehow our own.  I can't wait to have my own kitchen again and to set up a nursery for Bump and, most of all, I can't wait till James isn't commuting 2+ hours every day to work and we will have some time to spend together in the evenings!

But I am sorry to be leaving the family home again.  It has been a squeeze -  six (sometimes seven or eight if the girlfriends/boyfriends stay) in a small cottage with one bathroom has occasionally been a little chaotic - but it has also been so good.  I mean it has been pretty perfect being able to reap the rewards of a bountiful garden despite having put in none of the legwork first, not to mention waking up daily to the sound of chickens!  Mostly though it has been so good to spend actual time with my mum and her partner despite their insane workloads; it has been so good to just be here and be with family again.  I am going to miss this small, bustling house badly.



Moving news aside, these pictures are of the latest haul from the garden.  The courgette plants are finally starting to die back but it would appear they won't leave without one last push.  And the beans, well they certainly aren't going to be stopping any time soon!  It is incredible that such a small space can produce so much.



The Curly Kale has however failed to thrive.  Three guesses from the picture below who is responsible (and the first two don't count)!



Cheeky things.

I am going back now to sit in the garden; with only a few evenings left here I can't afford to spend them inside!

blackberry pickers' paradise.

I am still without access to a computer but, quite smugly, I have figured I can upload photos straight to Flickr from my phone.  Here, unedited, are moments from my morning, proving unequivocally that August is coming to an end and that Autumn is just waiting to pounce.

I cannot believe how many blackberries there are this year, most of them are so bloated that they just crumble under my fingers as soon as I touch them.  Every morning when I take the dogs out I pick and pick until either the pot is full or the dogs get too bored and start whining, I have come nowhere close to clearing the crop.  This morning I walked with my mother and we picked over a kilo in ten minutes - the poor freezer is groaning at the seams.

My fingers are stained purple and my arms are covered in scratches, I know deep down we don't need any more blackberries, yet I know that tomorrow morning, like every morning, I won't be able to resist their sugary lure!

Behind the scenes at the Farmers' Market.

Since living back with my parents I have been helping out (aka eating my way round the different stands) at one of the weekly farmers' markets.  
I love reading the blog posts of those visiting Farmers' Markets; the colours and range of local produce make taking a bad photograph nearly impossible but from behind the stand, it is slightly less picturesque; think more freezer boxes and plastic bags.

On the plus side we get the ringside seat for people watching.  
Every Wednesday there is the woman in her seventies who buys just four ravioli for her supper and the woman who almost clears the stand buying three meals worth of pasta every week for her family of five.  There are the umm-ers and ahh-ers who coo over the pasta for a long time and buy nothing.  There are the artsy (potentially blogger) types who awkwardly take photographs before feeling obliged to buy a portion of pappardelle. 
Then we move onto ultimate people watching - I won last week with this entry:

yes, that is a dog dressed in a golfing outfit.  Only the cap is visible here but he was also wearing a charming argyle sweater!

Main job perk? Our stand is opposite the sushi and tempura prawn stand.  Win.

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! 

and it's certainly not showing any sign that it is slowing...

Today I feel a bit lousy, I am on round two of antibiotics for a cruddy infection so I am currently settling myself in for a sofa day and several rounds of Buffy on Netflix (they just uploaded seasons 4-7, it cannot be helped).



But despite my sofa plans, I still had my morning runaround catching and returning chickens and, once in the top garden, I couldn't resist a moment squash and courgette hunting.  Since the summer rains have started the garden has gone into overdrive - just look at them crawling out of their beds.  They have started to invade the bed next to them and I even found one trying to climb the bean pole.

I sense that supper tonight will look a lot like this again:

(and I for one am not complaining).

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?!