Well, here I am again after a fairly traumatic time spent in the back of a Land Rover. You're already familiar with the catalogue of neglect and hardship visited upon me by the arty ones - well they have surpassed themselves this time. I was lulled into thinking WE were off on an adventure. We set off, loaded up with thermos and nourishments for humans and canines, and my lead and my bed, and we drove ... for all of half an hour. Then parked up at an unknown farmhouse. I was presented with some water and a dry biscuit and left, for several hours, while they disappeared to paint a stable. They returned. We drove to a nearby footpath where I was allowed a little exercise and another biscuit and then the whole story was repeated, on and off, for three whole days. Admittedly every time they returned there was more evidence of paint and more general rattiness so I don't think it was much fun (not to mention the collection of flea (?) bites amassed by a certain someone) and I know we have to keep the wolf from the door and all that but could I not have been allowed in? Hmmm? Think of the wasted sniffs and smells! Mental cruelty, really.
I tried to get some chick pix from the latest hatching but they were all out of focus and not worthy of posting here. Herself's vintage image will have to suffice for today. Meanwhile it's time the older lot faced the big wide world and so they'll be going outside to sleep in their own henhouse from now on, instead of in the shed with a big heat lamp for warmth. As long as they work out to take cover when it rains they'll be fine but, if they run true to form they will not work out how to go to bed on their own for at least a week. This means H and L out there at bedtime every night, on hands and knees in the hen run, catching the daft wee souls and walking them up the ramp and into the henhouse, till they finally get the hang of it!