Monday, 22 October 2007

Beam me up, Scotty

Listening to: What Do I Get? (The Buzzcocks)
What's for tea? Irish stew
Eggs?: don't be daft
Surf: 3ft clean and full of seals
Weather: Overcast, mild

It's Monday (not that it makes a lot of difference these days) and I've just completed what has become an increasingly frequent task on the croft. . . getting the hen back in the hen run.

This has me puzzled. Fletch, Godber and the other girls aren't completely free range because we have two young male dogs who are pretty keen on chicken, the fresher the better. So they have a fenced off area and can pop in and out of the hen house through a window about two feet off the ground.

The fence is over 4ft high. well attached to the posts and with no obvious gaps. Yet one of the pullets gets out about twice a week. It's always the same one and she clearly doesn't like it. She trots up and down outside the fence, clucking the hen equivalent of "get me back in fercrissakes before the dogs eat me".

I unhook the gateway, step aside and she wanders back in, looking relieved, leaving me to work out exactly how she got out.

The wings are clipped, so getting over the fence is impossible. Maybe she's done a David Copperfield (the illusionist, not the Dickens character) and walked straight through the fence in the same way that he went through the Great Wall of China. The hen house can't be seen from outer space, but it's the only one you can see from our kitchen.

Or maybe hens have secretly developed a teleportation system and are using Westray as a testing ground.

Well, have you got any better ideas?

7 comments:

martin said...

I found you blog through razorblade of life. That's what I love about blogland,you find really interesting things. It's sounds wonderful up there doing what you are doing,but that is easy for my to say sitting in Fulham London with Starbucks round the corner.....Would it be ok to put you on my blogroll ?.

Malc said...

Absolutely.

Yes, it's lovely here with the sun just breaking through shining off the sea, curlews and lapwing in the top field.

Having said that, after two hours digging and then feeding pigs and hens, I could do with something in a big mug with an obscene amount of whipped cream on the top.

I, like the view said...

I thought I put something here the other day about chickens. . .

but obviously not!

hope you get the problem sorted

I, like the view said...

(and I thought I ended with preferring Cafe Nero. . .)

lettuce said...

hens are just such bizarre creatures.

and most of all that broken-knicker-elastic-run (Pratchett)

Malc said...

ILTV

Think you did put something about hens on here a week or so ago, can't remember what now, but don't recall anything about Cafe Nero. I'll have a rummage through past posts in a bit.

And please don't go on about coffee. . . I have severe espresso/capuccino cravings

I, like the view said...

(me too: my one kitchen luxury, a little one cup Gaggia epxresso machine, broke a while back. . . much as I love tea, a cuppa just isn't the same - and neither is coffee made the old fashioned way in one of those glass plunger jugs)(go on, put a little Gaggia on you xmas list!)(but don't feed the grinds to the pigs - can you imagine, pigs high on caffeine!)