Bush eggs: none. Nest box eggs: one – a slow day for the girls. Feed hopper: full.
Still locked in.
The people are away again and have left The Little People and us in the capable hands of The Old Ones, so probably no feed issues for a while.
That flighty Buttercup flew out of the coop last night and slept wattles knows where. I told you she was trouble (well, in a fit of prescience I actually said flighty but it amounts to the same thing.)
I wrote a poem about the new girls…
A poem about new hens by Ruby
Three new girls arrived the other day
Sylvie, Ella and Buttercup they say
They’re here to live
Eggs they will give
And about it Jack seems AOK!
The rest of us are not so keen
Brian and Steve are especially mean
They shove and peck
Pull feathers from necks
But Jack still seems to like their sheen
Jack takes great pains to make
His needs the complete opposite of opaque
He struts and preens
It’s really obscene
But at least you can’t accuse him of being a fake.
A dazzling display of rhyme and time – sublime!
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