Day 82: Chicken Run

Oscar slept from 9.30pm to 4.30am! Marvellous news as Tasha is in single parent mode most of the time at the moment, my hand is still pretty useless.
I may not be able to master bottles (and I still can't lift him), but I can sit and play. Oscar took his buzzy bee toy from my hand and lifted it to his mouth. This is the first time we've seen him do this!

Our chums Chris and Rea came to help clean out the chickens and geese and while we were at it the chickens made a break for freedom. They shot to the cover of our apple trees and began furiously stuffing down grass as fast as they could.
To be fair, I was only half heartedly policing as a part of me was secretly yearning for them to be free again.
Despite the early morning sound of a shotgun over the last few days, 'The big daytime fox' is still on the prowl, taking chickens from our neighbours. With this in mind I became chickenman, fearless protector of fowl, ready to do battle with my one good hand.
I spent some time training the birds to come whenever I clap my hands, by treating them whenever I do this. It's a cunning plan that means I don't have to run around shouting to attract them. When it came time to get them back in I realised that I had found the one flaw in my system. You need a minimum of two hands to make an effective clap.