Keeping chickens is far more rewarding than I thought it was going to be.
When my parents bought 500 of the little darlings back in 1972 they were a complete nightmare...seriously ykk. Hen pecked is a real expression....and well observed. They were beastly birds all with evil in their eyes..Alfred Hitchcock would have loved them. Murderers everyone of them....apart from the victims...who died gruesome deaths. The job lot came with the small holding and we all naively thought they would be fun! Hah.....Not one solid path was there to push the wheelbarrow of feed along...only knee deep mud and my poor little mum was only 5'2".....she'd practically disappear. We moved in on December 6th and it rained everyday for about 6 weeks.
That first Christmas morning my father went down to collect the eggs and found one solitary offering. This he placed in his pocket and you guessed it...as soon as he got back in the kitchen he sat on it. At least it was cause for mirth. A little later that same Christmas day we had all settled down for the traditional festive lunch when the calm was shattered by a phone call to let us know that all of our horses...knewly moved to the pasture, had found gaping holes that had previously remained hidden..everyone of the had trotted off down to the village to explore...Ahh happy days.
But my three little lovelies are a constant delight and so affectionate. They are called after three other lovely thespian ladies. Helen, Meryl and Judy...and they are such characters...the bossy one is Helen.