Well, the chooks seem to be quite settled since Barnaby has left. Life is certainly quieter around here, and I had no idea how much damage was being done by him. I thought that my garden furniture would now be safe from the contents of his arse, then discovered that both Ava and Grace had decided to use it as a vantage point in the garden. The little tinkers! At least the saddle of my bike has been bird poo free so far.
My little Betsey, the 'chick', is now 19 weeks old and looking more adult. She's a massive bird and tall. Andrea says that she looks like a ballerina, as she has long legs and tends to stretch her neck up. She's lanky rather than graceful though, and I think her body shape and feathers are now starting to look more like her big Orpington Dad - although she's already taller than him! I love hatching out birds and seeing how they turn out. I'm lucky that I can have a cockerel here, and George is a delight.
Poor George. He has to put up with me cuddling him at every opportunity. I try to limit myself to just a couple of times a week, but he's hard to resist. He's just a great big feather pillow without the cotton cover!
They are all coping well despite the shooting season that is going on all around us. The copse over the road is full of pheasants and for the last week there has been a shot every few minutes. Earlier it actually sounded like they were using grenades - although I'm fairly certain that's not possible in rural Leicestershire. I asked the local farmer if they'd killed them all yet, and he reckons there were still some to catch - blimey - they must be really bad shots and just keep missing the same two birds! I heard two badgers fighting for the first time the other night it really sounds incredibly vicious. Scared the heck out of me and the chooks.
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