Bush eggs: one. Nest box eggs: none. Feed hopper: just enough for a mouse’s tea party.
After the tension died down yesterday we were able to ask the new hens all about their old home in a non-confrontational way. It sounds like they miss it more than they are letting on but they are beginning to fit in well here. Ella and I have our moments, but she’s quite smart and interesting once she lets down her guard and stops eyeing my place in the pecking order.
Anyway, it seems they lived in a big fenced-off paddock with lots of chickens of every size, shape and colour. Often new chickens came to the place looking like death warmed up, but with love and special attention from their female person they would perk up and start enjoying life in the long paddock. There were lovely scratchings in this paddock, plus food aplenty, shelter, dust baths, good company. All the hens had to do was not complain about their eggs being taken since apparently The Female Person who kept them had the same weird habit as our female person does of collecting hens’ eggs.
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