The ducks that were injured have recovered from their various damage and are fine again but going to bed earlier - which is a blessing for them and me. But it has made me unwilling to be away from home at dusk. One of the moorhens was back in the garden yesterday - several weeks after I thought they must have been eaten by the fox. The mallard duck on the local pond has lost her brood of 7 ducklings but she or another duck is now laying in the school playground opposite, much to the delight of the local kids. So mixed fortunes here.
Two of the original hens are trying to widen their horizons - the white and the brown hens are both found daily on the road pecking at food. I've brought the brown hen back from the park behind my house twice today already, and I was greeted in church by two of the older women gleefully telling me how they had stopped on their way to escort the white hen back into the garden through the gate. It has become a Matson sport - all sorts of locals old and young tell me how they rounded up a chicken earlier in the day. Outreach evangelism? Well an opportunity for lots of poultry jokes anyway, including one from a very small boy who asked me in his high little voice "Why did the chicken cross the road?" I said - like you should - "I don't know. Why did the chicken cross the road?" To which he replied looking worried, "I don't know either but it's dangerous 'cos it will get runned over." Is there a future here...??
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2 comments:
Oh, 3 cheers for a sighting of the moorhen...so glad that one at least has escaped and your convalescent ducks have recovered (and learned from the experience?)....and wonderful story of that small boy. We are all chortling gently :-)
Have a good Bank Holiday x
You're really NOT a natural blogger, are you! Here I am, trawling the ether, desperately hoping that someone will either divert me from the prevailing awfulness of the Anglican Communion, or suggest an instant and happy solution (yup, optimist here) and not a word have you posted ;-)
Ah well, better go and visit some real live parishioners, none of whom will be remotely interested in all the shenanigans which are reducing so many to tears/fury/despair.
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