You should have seen my face this morning when I discovered that the door to the shed where the hens currently reside had blown open overnight. Fortunately, no hen had had the guts to escape. Possibly because the wind howling through the doorway was too strong to walk against! My chores took twice as long thanks to the wind – it was a struggle to stay on my feet at times.
In less amusing news, the hens are starting to suffer from being housed for so long. I have lost two in two days, including my champion rooster, Rodney.
He did have it tough recently, protecting his ladies from his own son. The young pretender won. I have called him Boris. Having only buried Rodney yesterday, I was met this morning by the sight of Boris busily taking over where his father left off. He also has a far superior crow and comb. It’s a rooster eat rooster world out there.
This is Boris, a handsome beast and home bred! (For anyone wondering, he is not in my kitchen. That is an old stove, which lives in the outhouse and functions as a rather bulky shelf. I imagine the idea was that it would “come in useful” one day… The floor however, is not in a dissimilar state to my kitchen floor…”)
Also, #notmysheep, but they get kudos for getting in despite all the gates being closed, in their hunt for shelter last night.
RIP Rodney the Random Rooster.