The hens have now discovered the most dismal, concrete part of our garden. The washing line area. Despite various tempting propositions they keep going back to the concrete spot instead of the grass. How strange? The good news is that they are walking right up to us now. I keep expecting a peck on someone’s big toe, but none so far.
He he. Guess the poop comes with the territory …. And boy, do they poop A LOT!
I’m working at the office today so I have no major updates. They have made it through the night – with Goldie’s bottom firmly placed in the food bowl instead of the comfy hay. Clearly these girls are the low maintenance, no fuss type J. I’ll let you know how things are going when I’m home in the afternoon.
Bum in the food bowl? Again, I both apologise, and recluse myself from any responsibility for these chickens behaviour. I can offer no guarantee on good manners.
Later in day:
Indeed – I seem to have missed the fine print on the lack of good manners. I’ve suffered my first few pecks from the feisty Goldie…. Have myself convinced that they were just warnings and not intended to draw blood.
Today they have had their first dust bath – and boy did they enjoy it like a spent mother at the Saxon dol. They dug little beds for themselves in the sand and fluffed their feathers up. I’m no chicken guru but I believe they were looking quite pleased with life. Their house arrived today. They did not seem that impressed gunning instead for our back door. But that is where they are sleeping tonight.