Over at Adam Ford’s website there is a fantastic story about a Chicken Rescue. I am always uplifted by this kind of story – I would love to be a Chicken Rescuer, but will have to wait until I am going to be living somewhere that is;
a) not a tiny house with a bricked courtyard,
b) not somewhere that I’m planning on leaving in the next two months,
c) chicken friendly, with lots of dirt to scratch around in, and well fenced.
When we moved here we found an old chook shed up the back. M dug out a lot of dirt from it and created our (now dead by drought) vegie garden. The dirt had obviously been very well chickened, because things sprang from the earth like an advertisement for garden fertiliser. So poo is another good reason to rescue a chicken or two. Roosters are another matter. I can hear one RIGHT NOW and it makes me want to kill. If they observed their proper times of yodel, I wouldn’t be the Anti-Rooster, but as it is, we live between two related roosters, who insist on conversing with each other at least once an hour. Every hour.