Which Came First? Chicken Or…

This morning getting ready for school was frought with ‘when are we going to let the chickens out?’, ‘do we need to let the chickens out now?’, ‘how long before we let the chickens out?’ The boy I usually have to repeatedly badger to go and feed and clean out his guinea pigs couldn’t wait to get outside to check on the new arrivals. Truth be it known, neither could I, however, I was leaving it to go check just before we left.

The coop looked all in tact as we approached. By ‘in tact’ I mean that those hardcore foxes that walk around the countryside carrying a set of bolt croppers in order to wreak havoc on puny chicken coops did not pay us a visit on the first night.

I reached in through the coop door and lowered the henhouse door which doubles as the ramp for them to walk out on. There was a long hesitation before any stirring could be heard and eventually a sleepy Susan poked her head out of the door before tentatively and delicately stepping on to the ramp. Wendy followed a minute or so later and once she’d vacated Cam was itching to look in the nest box to see if they’d laid any eggs. Being 18 week old pullets they have yet to lay their first egg so each visit to the nest box over the next few weeks is full of both excitement and intrepidation at what we might find.

Very quietly we unhooked the catch on the nest box roof and Cam and I leaned in closely to peer in to the straw bedding which had been softly dented into a flattened oval dimple the shape of a chicken tummy. And there on the straw, lay the biggest, shiniest, large brown turd and not a single egg in sight. Camerons baited breath of anticipation was released in a single groan and I laughed at his disappointment.

“BLEUGH” he winced as he stood upright, quickly ejecting his face from the vicinity of the box.

We giggled.

“You can have it on your toast if you want”, I said, “I don’t mind”


1 Comment »

  1. Vic said


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