New Chicks on the Block

Exciting news from the smallholding this week -we’ve got new chickens!

Introducing Rocky and Molly (Rhode Rock) and Mac and Babs (Light Sussex). We waited till nightfall (see the picture of me above in full Mrs Tweedie mode) and popped them into the hen house. Well, I say “popped” but it was more like “grab, pull out of cage and place on roost”. Bunty, Ginger and FiFi ruffled their feathers but soon settled down.

The next morning, I hastened to let them out to see what carnage had resulted from them finding their pecking order. First to tumble out when the door was raised were Bunty, Ginger and FiFi. They bustled up to the fence to tell me and Doofus all about the interlopers who just appeared in their house without a “by your leave” or any such politeness. We were unimpressed by their complaints. They were unharmed, but since they bully the bantams, I was keen to see the state of the new hens.

A few minutes later, the black ones (Rhode Rocks) came out blinking in the sunshine. Phew, not a feather out of place. And then the light-coloured ones came out and instantly started scratching in the dirt. All unharmed, Geordie Smallholder has a theory – the new chicks were bigger than the older ones. The bullies were beaten!

The new chicks on the block settled in quickly and laid eggs right away. We now have lots of eggs and GSM has started baking again (lemon drizzle and chocolate cakes if you want to know).

Sadly, FiFi passed away last night, aged 2.5. She hadn’t laid an egg in 6 months but had enjoyed her retirement, roosting, eating, scratching in the dirt, and sunbathing. So not a bad life for a hen, really.

Feline Groovy

I thought you might like an update on the cats: they seem to be a bit keener on being with us now, so both of them follow us up the track when we take Doofus for his evening walk. Sad people that we are, we have taken to stopping and waiting for them to catch up. Which can mean our walks take much longer as we wait for Tripod. The theme of the baby elephant walk plays in Geordie Smallholder’s head. All together now, dee deedee dee dee dee dee dee deedee.

One night, Tripod took so long, Geordie Smallholder scooped her up and marched on with the cat dangling across his left arm. I was standing waiting to close the gate for the night and it looked like he had a black and white jacket over his arm. “What’s that?”, I asked him. “The cat”, he replied, “She was tired.”

Now, we want to be farmers, how is this going to work when we are that soft-hearted?