It is the third day. I want to go to bed. Instead I chase sodding pre-cooked roast dinners round the garden.
Tonight I have had a humour shortfall. The new girls are really confused by the 'get into the coop and go to bed' thing. My original 8 troop in, but the new girls just pace, stressed. I'd really feel more sympathy if I wasn't so blinking tired.
I walked into the football room, sorry I mean sitting room, and asked for help. Apparently THIS football match is a BIG one. Derrrr! that's why we have that Sky+ thing where you can pause live TV, (if you can get your hands on the remote control that is!) Anyhoo, dressed in his best business clothes, hubby came to help.
Tonight I have had a humour shortfall. The new girls are really confused by the 'get into the coop and go to bed' thing. My original 8 troop in, but the new girls just pace, stressed. I'd really feel more sympathy if I wasn't so blinking tired.
I walked into the football room, sorry I mean sitting room, and asked for help. Apparently THIS football match is a BIG one. Derrrr! that's why we have that Sky+ thing where you can pause live TV, (if you can get your hands on the remote control that is!) Anyhoo, dressed in his best business clothes, hubby came to help.
We chased, we waited, we herded, we clucked (CLUCKED!)
Finally 1 out of 6 got it. I nearly cried.
A blackbird started its incessant chirping in the half light. You know the one; the chirp of stress, on and on and on, flying towards us over a deep meadow.
'What is making that noise?' said hubby.
'Blackbird,' said I; nature woman.
We looked up to see a blackbird chasing a silent owl across the field beside us, perfectly visible against a violent pink-grey sky. Bats swooped in their wake. Gosh! A moment of calm..... ......before I remembered to be grumpy again....
'Get in the bloody coop!'
One by one we pinned them down and chucked them into bed. Hubby caught the most elusive of the bunch; he's my hero. I flicked the switch for my nightly electrocution and we were fox-proof.
Back indoors, supping a deserved glass of wine.... life is unpaused and the football persists...... I'd rather be chasing chickens.....
'I'd rather be chasing chickens' sounds like the beginning of a great old Music Hall sing-a-long. How about each new comment-er adds the next line?
ReplyDeleteI'd rather be chasin' chickens
Than glued to the balls wiv me 'spouse ...............
Ohh the stress of doing it for their own good and then not being able to relax in a comfy chair with something decent to watch on TV: just KNOW how you feel!
ReplyDeleteMadameSmokingGun: Your on to something by jove!
ReplyDeleteI'd rather be chasin' chickens
Than glued to the balls wiv me'spouse..........
Or readin' a book by Dickens
While suppin' sum wyne in me 'ouse.
Tattie: Wish Spain would just hurry up and win and we can be done with it! Gardeners World has been pants for weeks! Grrrr.
MadameSmokinGun: Oh I'm soooo ashamed, look how I've used 'your' in that sentence up there. The tiredness has really kicked in.....
ReplyDeleteSummer starts today and it flipping raining!
I think you may have put me off having chickens.
ReplyDeleteVery Bored in Catalunya: Oh! That may not be what the Battery Hen Liberation Front wanted to hear.....
ReplyDelete...the eggs are nice, when they can be arsed to lay...
lol?
I think you should write a book (or an article) on taming chickens - how it's not so different from taming children! - Erin
ReplyDelete'Cross the Pond: Oh Erin, you've got my wicked little brain concocting now..... hmmm, let me see....
ReplyDeleteOh how fun lol I haven't done that for a very long time now!
ReplyDeleteThe chickens are the only thing on our property that I can shout at and still get a lovely 'ahhh burhh' back from them. The dogs howl, the children scream but the chickens love me. They might drive us made and not lay, jump the fence, and tempt the dogs but they are the best time waisters and pretty to look at. Everyone should have them and write their own how to manual as well.
ReplyDeleteWell if you have a tree you can always fix up a fox-proof ladder and get them to roost in the tree instead. (honest I saw it on tv, a few years back!).
ReplyDeleteOurs have refused to sleep in their coop all year. They roosted ON TOP of the coop all through winter (I saw them with snow and frost on their backs in the morning) and even now they wont go in unless you physically chuck them in. Stupid things.
I have to say...that roast looks so delish...I can even smell it Lou!. I had to have a Macy D for tea tonight as I tok the sprogs to the local theatre to see Alice Wonderland and didn't have time to cook. I hate Macy D's too - so I forced a happy meal down my throat but would much rather of had the roast! S x
ReplyDeleteMy mother would be rapping at your front door for your scandalous lack of apostrophe-ing. I likes to giv er plenty to git werked up abaht. I only buy cherries from stalls that advertise 'cherrys', 'cherry's' or my favourite 'cherr'ys'. She'd spit out the stone but choke on the gaffs. Me....? I love it. Way more fun.
ReplyDeleteNow one more time with feeling!
IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII'd rather be chasin' chickens........
I had to laugh.... been there, done that! Minus help from anyone, LOL!
ReplyDeleteWell done, mama hen :)