I was recently left in charge of two chickens, while their mummy and daddy were on holiday.
I was told they probably wouldn't escape from their pen, but if they did, I was just to show them some corn and they would absolutely, positively, go running straight back inside.
It wasn't long before the chickens decided to have some fun with
me and started filling their water up with bits of wood chips.
How they did it I have no idea, but when I visited, there it was – the water bucket filled to the brim with wood and no water to be seen.
I had to wait until they'd gone to bed before I could replace the water, only to discover the next day that I hadn't attached it to the wall properly and the chickens wasted no time in tearing it off and throwing it all over their run.
The next night I went round to make sure they'd gone to bed. Unfortunately the chickens had decided a late night was in order, and were still outside in their pen.
My requests of "Please go to bed chickens" fell on deaf ears and as I had to fill up their food bowls, I tried to distract them while I opened up their pen.
Unfortunately the moment the gate was open – whoosh!
They were past me before you could say Sunday roast.
Remembering the promise that they would go back into their run at the mere thought of corn, I quickly grabbed a handful of the stuff and tried to throw it inside. Unfortunately, they decided it would be more fun to peck the corn out of my hand, which sent me running round the garden like a demented idiot.
Those chickens have blinkin' sharp beaks! Once they'd chased me off successfully, off they went, digging and scratching around the garden.
It was getting dark and I was desperate, so remembering my five minutes practice of pig racing at West Lodge, I picked up a piece of wood and started herding them round the garden. They gave me a run for my money, I got muddy, wet and pecked, but eventually I got them in, and headed back home nursing my wounds.
Luckily their real mummy and daddy are now back from their hols and have taken over the chicken duties.
Thank goodness for that. A pet lover I may be, but a farmer? Forget it!
