Day 85: Fun with a fence-ive weapon.

Dad came to help me work on the chicken run, abandoned since I shot my hand.
I'd already had 2" of nail in me, which is as much as anyone ever really needs to have in their lifetime, so we developed a method of securing all the parts with stakes, both retiring behind the nailgun before pulling the trigger. A marvellous success with 100% less horrific nailgun injuries.

Day 83: Leaving Miss Hopkins

Today my primary school teacher retired. She must have been about 12 when she taught me!

Our neighbours' female turkey was taken by the big daytime fox. She left an egg as a parting gift. Her mate is looking gloomy.

Winston, our chicken who survived the fox attack, has become broody... so we put the turkey egg under her! Let's see what happens.

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.

Day 76: Thank you cards

Today we got down to writing thank you cards for the acres of gifts Oscar recieved. We told him many times we don't mind doing it now, but as soon as he's old enough, he will be doing his own. I imported special folding 3D viewers and got a nice 3D card made up with a message from Oscar on.

Chicken news: With Winston on antibiotics for the fox attack we have to waste eggs, so our egg supply is dwindling, especially as we donated 3 dozen to the school summer fair. We have gone from the people with the egg mountain to the land of the egg drought.

I worry they are becoming depressed, even though their run is 9 meters by 4. Tomorrow I plan to build an extension for them which will cover an area full of grass, plants and bugs to discover.

Day 74: Dayus horribilis

6am. CATFIGHT!@!!!

Lept out of bed, down the stairs in three loooong jumps, out the door... Gretel arrived with bite marks on her back - again!
Weeks ago the big white and black moggy that has been coming into our kitchen, stealing food and peeing everywhere bit her on the bum. I spent over a week bathing and tending to her wounds between nappy changes. Now the b@stard returns and does it again.

Who has an un-neutered tomcat these days? Crazy people.

2.30pm. !FOX@!!! Bright sunshine, chickens all free ranging as usual...Tasha screaming FOX!. I lept up (it was a day for leaping apparently) jumped out of the lounge window and over the flower pot to see Mr Fox with one of our brown hens in it's mouth. I shouted like a football hooligan and miraculously it was startled enough to drop her and run off, with me in hot pursuit. I was 99% sure it had nothing in it's mouth and it soon disappeared into the long grass.

Back at the house Tasha had got six hens in their run, with Ellie-Bolt (named by our God-daughter Ellie) standing dazed under a bush not keen on coming out and a mass of brown feathers on the grass. Eventually we got Ellie in, but that left our other brown hen Winston missing.

When we last had chicken drama it was a local dog chasing them. On that occasion they scattered and it took about 45 mins before they all came home. So we called and called. I paced the garden, filled the goose pool up a bit, watered plants, called, checked all the sheds, behind things, under things. I got a big scratch from brambles right in the middle of my forehead and a thorn in my finger, it was a great afternoon. Was she hurt? Hiding? Eaten?

Three hours later and we had resigned ourselves to the loss. I was kicking myself for not getting through the window quicker, and for even letting them roam so soon after yesterday's attack on our neighbours' flock.

Then we had one of those..miracles. Tasha went to the back door and their was little Winston. A bit shaken, with a few bald patches, but alive! A quick antibiotic jab later and she was back with the flock. We will have to chick the eggs for a few days until the antibiotics get through her system but that's a small price eh?

Oscar's Uncle Matt called on Skype but Oscar refused to smile or even look at the screen. I think it was Matt's Arsenal shirt.

So we didn't lose a chicken after all. We did lose Oscar's last milk spot though! The end of an era.

Day 73: School Fete

To the school fete at my old primary school. My teacher is retiring. Amazed she was still there, perhaps I'm younger than I think?

Met our chums Hannah and Andy with their two boys Max and Harry. A glimpse into the future?

Hoping Oscar will not look quite so Gene Simmons...

Our neighbour's children arrived looking worried, have we seen their brown chicken? Ten minutes searching later we found a pile of feathers. Mr Fox had visited in broad daylight and carried her off :(

Went straight home and put ours in their run.