27th September, six fluffy, yellow day-old Brown Shaver chicks came to live at our place. The chick rearing school project proved a source of endless fascination.
In October, grandson, 7-year old Daniel was still mothering his chicken children. Strawberry did Daniel proud to win a ribbon at his school’s Agricultural Day.
By November, I was thinking thyme for chicken casserole. My dire warning about heads on the nearby chopping block was ignored. They cheeped away and continued to forage among the strawberries and herbs.
However, the chicks were terrified of the two adult hens who command the henhouse. Gertrude and Speckles only had so much tolerance for child-minding. They took to their nesting boxes. I guess it’s natural a pecking order be established.
Come December, the chickens are quite the cheeky teenagers and speak in chook not cheeps. One managed a defiant peck of my blueberries as they were shooed out of the garden. At night now, they roost in the hen-house with the older hens. Fewer feathers are flying.
Is it too much to expect some egg-laying in January?
Meanwhile, Frog has taken residence in the flax bush I’d left soaking in a bucket until I get round to replanting it.
Animals 1 – garden 0.