Saturday, January 14, 2006

Not for the squeamish

There were lively scenes at the allotment the other day. The Old Man was refurbishing one of the greenhouses, getting it ready for next Spring's tomatoes, when he heard a big kerfuffle from the hens. This is broad daylight mind, midday. He came out of the greenhouse and there's a fox, with a hen in it's mouth, trotting away, quite the thing. He gave chase but, as you'd expect, Urban Reynard was sprightlier than a man in his late 60s, and got away - with the hen.

We're down to 11 chickens now. A few days ago, two of them we're found with their heads chewed off. This may have been a mink, or perhaps a feral cat.

We're beginning to question the future of poultry keeping down our way.