26 - Chicken Poo

My chief task for today is to have a bit of a clean up in Hen Pen Coup, having 9 chickens can get quite messy much of the time, so regular clean outs makes the task that much easier. Also we are still in the midst of a heat wave, so the earlier I tackle this task the better. Truly not my favourite job but with face mask, wellies and dungarees I am ready to take the job on. "Yuk, yuk, yuk, Oh no, how disgustingly horrid". Yes I had forgotten to put my chicken gloves on and the worst has happened to me. To steady myself whilst bringing the cleaning gear into the coup, I grab hold of the nearest perch, only to squeeze through a huge freshly laid lump of Chick Poo. Yuk, I'm clearly feeling squeamish as the poo has digested itself under all my finger nails. No rags to hand, I lend myself to the grass in Hen Pen garden only to wipe more of the same on the hand. I am very near to throwing up and have voweled my days are numbered as a Country Girl, this life is not for me. Battling to get the upper hand here, I can here Max in the background shouting at Louisa. I can't image why Max should be shouting at her and struggle to get up and out of Hen Pen Garden to see if I can help. Too late, Sugar Lump is on the scene saying "What's going on". "She's not pulling her weight" Max complains. "It was Louisa's responsibility to prune the pear trees, but she is only doing half a job". "Sounds about right to me" says Sugar Lump. Louisa then turns on Sugar Lump frowning and says "Rubbish, That's not fair, I've been working my socks off" and adds, "and what have you been doing Sugar Lump"? "Oh I'm on Tractor duty today - planning the exit of another dead tree". Louisa, starts to argue further with Sugar Lump and then Max steps in and shouts over to me. "Carol Irene, do come and sort your daughter out, she's only doing half a job here". Max has clearly taken the responsibility on as Project Manager and probably pushing it a little too far with Louisa. "If he calls me that name just once more, I know a wobbly will have to be the final straw". I mutter to myself as I walk from Hen Pen with chicken poo on my hand to see if I can sort the problem....

Louisa is clearly upset at being shouted at by Max and Sugar Lump and has since down tools and is in a strop. If it had been the chickens that had been in a two and eight then I would know exactly what to do - yes dish up a bowl of corn. Can't do that with this lot, so I offer a cup of tea, so we can encourage to talk the problem through, this does not go down too well at all....

In my book I did not expect any work to be done on the house or in the garden, especially as they are all here on holiday. Just very pleased they are all here and appreciate that they have all been so willing to get stuck in. Every little helps. I can see that all seem a little stressed and uncomfortable, so I suggest that being as the sun is shining and still quite early in the day. "Lets pack up a picnic and head for the coast, which is only 35 minutes away". They all cheer in agreement - lets do it. Max comes rushing over to me and shakes my hand, "great idea Carol Irene, lets go", he smiles. Max not knowing of course, what covers my hand and I am not in a rush to tell him - at long last I have got my own back on him...A result....

25 - Brooding Madam Poulette

Having had an in depth conversation with Emily, we have now decided to allow Madam Poulette the privilege of having chicks of her own. Emily is really taken with the chickens and thinks it a little unfair in denying Madam Poulet the pleasure of raising her own chicks. I agree with Emily but had put myself on hold because I still have not been able to pick up a chicken. Since we moved into the house, Madam Poulette has done little else other than to brood, so hopefully this will sort the problem out. Today, she has 3 eggs in her nest, which we have carefully marked each with an X in pencil. There is a little dilemma here due to the fact that all the hens are wanting to lay their eggs in the same nesting box, so identifying Madam Poulette's eggs is important, we hope that we have chosen correctly...

"So I am going to be a Dad again, ah Chicken Maid Emily". Emily is simply amazed that Monsieur Poulet is talking directly to her. "Did you hear that", Emily says looking at me. "Yes but do not take too much notice of him as he can be extremely lippy and cocky besides.". I continue. "Talk to him if you wish but I am going to have a word with Sugar Plum about putting a couple more nesting boxes up". I leave Emily crouching down, having a word with Monsieur Poulet about his forthcoming offspring. I can see that he is taking the opportunity to show off as he is spreading his colourful wings and pointing out the many colours that adorn his coat...

Sugar Plum is in agreement about the necessity of building two more nesting boxes and will work on it once he has completed a couple of tractor jobs with Max. A results excellent, I am happy, so many jobs getting done this week is remarkable. In the short time that Louisa, Emily and Max have been here, so much has been achieved on the land that it is being transformed daily. We now have in place 3 superb rockeries. The old washing line pulled down. The biggest bonfire ever. The development of a Veggie Patch, Pear tree pruning, Hen Pen Garden grass cut back and the fencing that Monsieur is not happy with....

"He's a miserable old ungrateful chicken" says Emily as she comes into the Kitchen, frowning. "You don't say", I did warn you." "He was having a go at me over that fencing we put up yesterday and could we re-arrange it so that it looks Posh". "He even suggested that we take it down completely so that Madam Attitude could have a nesting place for her chicks". Interested I ask Emily "How did you respond"? "Well, I was tempted to kick him up the parsons nose but decided against it and just called him a miserable old git and turned my back on him and went on to have a chat with the youngsters instead", "he did not like that one little bit, it brought a jealous rage on and he cock-a-doodle-doo until he was blue in the face"....

24 - Ungrateful Monsieur Poulet

"So what do you think of it"? I am having a quite word with Monsieur Poulet about some fencing that Louisa and Emily put up in Hen Pen garden. The aim being to stop Madam Attitude from laying her eggs down the side of the coup. This area is now out of bounds as it was very difficult to collect eggs because the earth is banked up high and a tight squeeze between Hen Pen coup and the boundary fencing. Once we had discovered the 20 eggs in Hen Pen garden, Madam Attitude was very keen to continue laying but out of our possible reach. She thought she had out witted us and was quite determined but thanks to Louisa who discovered her new laying ground, we knew we had to act fast. "Bloody Awful" Monsieur Poulet replies. "Yes I agree with you Monsieur but they did there very best considering the little amount of material available to hand". "Hmmm, I don't like second best" he grumbles. "Me too, but we really should be grateful to Louisa and Emily for all the effort involved and it really is not so bad". "Me and my Madams deserve only Posh". "To be honest with you Monsieur you really do not deserve Posh" I continue. "Maybe one day we will be able to do something posh for you all but until you can show a little more courtesy, respect and add points to your like-ability chart, then Posh is not going to happen" "But I am very much liked he argues "Loved even, you ask Madams Poulette, Heather, Feather and Attitude. If I may be so bold as to say, they actually adore me". He states puffing out his chest. "Your ego, Monsieur is bigger than you". Ooooo. Now who has attitude" he says calmly as he sharpens his spurs....

23 - Where's Madam Attitude

The next morning Louisa, Emily and myself go to Hen Pen garden to feed the chickens their daily 2 bowls of Petit Dejeuner. The chickens scramble to get to the best and tastiest morsels with the usual scrapping between the old and young chickens. It doesn't take me long before I realise that Madam Attitude is missing, we search everywhere under the clumps of grass, in the coups. Nowhere to be seen; I am getting fearful at this stage. Usually it is Madam Attitude that is first on the scene whenever food is about. They all know my voice now and respond quickly but not this time after calling for her several times. We look for holes or gaps in the fencing - the fencing is secure, we continue searching under the clumps of grass for hideaways but nothing. I am perplexed, her whereabouts is a mystery and start to think possibly a fox had taken her even though there is no obvious sign of a struggle or black feathers laying about...

Suddenly, Curry Man appears on the scene and says, "What's going on" a regular saying he used to give for the television soap Eastenders. I put two and two together and came up with DEATH. "Its you, isn't it, you killed Madam Attitude" I shout at him with pointed finger. "No", "now would I" Curry Man says calmly. "Come on" I continue, "time to put your hands up on this one, have you killed Attitude"? I am getting really angry and finding it difficult to stay calm. "No Darling" he says and turns and walks away, adding "I have a curry to sort out for tonight". Rilled by this last comment, I run after Curry Man and slap him on the shoulder with my saucer size hand. He's laughing at me and all I could say was "How could you, how could you, how could you"....

At some point Max slipped into Hen Pen garden un-noticed, he too is searching for Madam Attitude. I can see him kneeling down on the grass to the far corner of Hen Pen garden and suddenly he shouts "Over here Carol Irene" I really wish he would not call me that name, I mutter to myself and make a note that I really must tackle him on that later. "She is over here sitting on a large amount of eggs" he shouts out eagerly. "Excellent Max" and we all trundle over to see where she had been hiding. Madam Attitude had dug out a large hollow under a large clump of grass, it would be easy to miss her unless the grass was lifted or separated, the grass covered her completely. In fact she looked quite cosy. "See I told you so, I didn't kill her" says the indignant Curry Man. "OK, OK, I apologise for jumping to the wrong conclusion" I say feeling exasperated. Max gently coaxes Madam Attitude off the nest and we are astounded at how many eggs there are. Max, starts to count them, which is easy for him as he is an Accountant (just qualified). "Looks like 9 eggs, no 13, no 17, no no sorry there are 20 eggs altogether, that's simply amazing". We are all amazed at such a large quantity of eggs in one nest. "The eggs are all different shapes and sizes" Max continues and puts two and two together and reconciling the differences, states that "All the hens have been dumping their eggs in the one basket - boom boom".... Oh dear...Oh dear Max

No knowing how long the eggs had been sitting in the nest, we destroyed them all. Have you had a similar experience? if so just click on comment below, we would lover to hear about it.

22 - Hooray - They have arrived

The day has come at long last, Louisa, Emily and Max have arrived for a weeks holiday. We greet each with screams of joy and excitement, hugs and kisses. Its been 3 months since we moved to France but it feels like 3 years, missing my family is definately the worst thing I have had to bear since the move. But anyway, they are all here now and we must make the most of this precious time together...

"A cup of tea all round" I say expectantly. "No, please lets see the chickens first" says Emily who's a great lover of all animals. "No, I would like to see round the house first" says Louisa. Louisa being a little prone to allergic reactions where animals is concerned is a little cautious. "Where's the Tractor" says Max... At that point Himself walks through the door saying. "Who mentioned Tractor". We are all laughing and talking at the same time, with more hugs and kisses. We do the rounds of the house and garden and they are all suitable impressed, love it all and think we got very good value for money. "Certainly could never get anything like this in he UK for the money" say Maximus. They all utter there agreements on that one. "Now, what about the tractor I have heard so much about. I'm for the first go" Max insists to Tractor Man...

The two boys go off and play tractor games and talk engine oil, combustion techniques and so on. I can see Monsieur Poulet straining his neck with a hand to his ear, desparately wanting to be one of the boys and join in. He is obviously disappointed that he cannot be part of the team by the way he is pacing up and down. He settles for second best and shouts to his mate near by, who returns his call and so it goes on back and forth...

My daughters meet up with the chickens in Hen Pen garden and they all get to know each other. The older chickens being more cautious towards visitors than the youngsters who easily want to be patted and generally enjoy the attention given. The little ones are really still quite coy, afraid even and prefer to be by themselves, sticking together. Madam Poulet is once again, full on to brooding but for now I take away any eggs that she may have laid, without picking her up. Today, no eggs have been laid, which is a bit surprising but she is happy just to sit on her nest. My daughters are more natural with the chickens than me, I observe, the hens going to Louisa and Emily easily to be stroked and patted. I monitor their techniques and say to myself, I must surely be able to do that. My mental note pad to hand, the technique has been stored...

I explain how the older hens are egg layers and that the younger ones fatteners. "What do you mean fatteners" ask Emily, readily looking concerned. "You are not going to eat them, are you"? "Yes but No" I stammer unknowingly. "Himself, wouldn't kill them to eat - would he"? There's a desparation in Emily's voice about our intentions and I am not sure of my answer. Louisa joins in "What do you mean Yes but No"? I explain about the good life senario and how obvious it is, that rearing your own animals to eat, is by far the best method of knowing exactly what you are eating. The benefits are paramount in taste and quality in comparison to battery raised hens for supermarket chains. In addition, we are giving these chickens a very good life style in return by the way they are kept, fed and looked after. "So you are going to kill and eat them" says Louisa. "It is difficult for me" I say truthfully "At this stage, I truly do not know. I would like to think I could but there is still very much a townie about me". At this point Himself - raises his voice from the mens Tractor meeting point and shouts "They are going to make excellent curries, just leave it all to me"....

21 - Tug-of-War

Its breakfast time and I take to my 9 little lovelies 2 bowls of petite dejeuner. I'm in a bit of a hurry as I was up late and behind with my plans for an early trip to the market. Having placed the bowls on the ground I then check the coup for eggs. "Ah ha, a result" I say and "well done girls", we have 3 eggs. My plans are on today, in attempting to impress Sugar Lump by making him a special Creme Brulee supper pudding - I am happy. Having come out of the coup, I notice Madam Heather downing a very long length of ham rind "Oh no", I shout out. Realising immediately that I had dished their food up and forgotten to cut the ham rind into small pieces...

I can see that Madam Heather is struggling to down the rind in one lump, so I go over to aid her digestive passage. I manage to grab hold of the end and give it a gentle pull, coaxing the rind back up her throat. To my astonishment Madam Heather, then gives a more superior tug and swallows a bit more. "This cannot be right" I say to Heather. "Let it go and I will chop it up into small pieces - that way we can avoid you choking to death". A gurgling comes from the back of her throat and I am worried that this is her demise. My dear sweet Madam Heather, who is instantly forgiven for pecking at the youngsters, is going to die all because I overlooked the obvious. "What will Sugar Lump think of me". I cannot give up, I am still holding the rind as we work a Tug-of-war. The length of rind appears to be twice as long now, stretchy much like an elastic band. I am getting impatient and want the result of keeping my bird alive and about to give up when a piercing, screeching Monsieur Poulet is shouting in my ear. "Get of my land and leave my women along, Chicken Maid" he cock-a-doodle-doo's arrogantly. The noise has stunned both of us and we both spring back in surprise as I let go of the rind and find myself in a sitting position. The tug-of-war is over as the rind pings back to Madam Heather and to my astonishment winds itself round her beak. Monsieur Poulet continues shouting his mouth off and then notices Madam Heather unable to speak. He goes over to her and unwinds the rind, whispering sweet nothings to her at the same time. With one almighty pull, succeeds in retrieving the rind in one piece and to my astonishment gobbles the rind up at speed. Near speechless I say "I hope you choke on it, that was a real mean thing to do" and attempt to get up and out of Hen Pen garden. As I stand, the 3 eggs collected had smashed in my dungarees pocket and now dripping disgustingly down my leg into my wellington boots, I was in hell once again... Creme Brulee is put on hold and so is my trip to market...

20 - A deafening shrill from Hen Pen garden

Image - Tractor Man with Chain Saw

The shrill is excruciatingly deafening and its coming from Hen Pen garden. Even louder than Tractor Man, who has his Chain Saw going at full pelt, he is making in-roads into cutting up a dead pear tree into logs for the Winter. I can see from a distance that there is a lot of flapping of wings and the noise is coming from more than one chicken. I am assisting the Tractor Man in steadying a branch whilst he cuts through; he cock’s an eye toward the hens and say’s “sounds like a lot of fun going on over there”. “Sounds more like death to me, I must go over to see what the problem is” I say. “No give me two ticks and I should be finished here” he insists. I know only too well how long two ticks is, with this Tractor Man., could be all day or longer. “No, please just stop, I literally will only be two ticks, something dreadful is going on over there"…

I let go of the branch and run like mad to Hen Pen garden. I can hear Tractor Man shouting at me but I ignore him. “What the heck is going on here” I ask in anguish. “God only knows” replies Monsieur Poulet; puts his hands on his hips and says “Women”. I am relieved that there is no obvious damage done to the girls, no one appears to be physically hurt or injured. “What do you mean women, have you been upsetting the ladies again”? I say. “Not at all" he says, "just take a look at her". Monsieur Poulet is looking towards a very anguished Madame Attitude. Its quite apparent that Madame Attitude has attitude today, she's squawking and screaming at the top of her voice. Heather and Feather are joining in with a lower shrill and straight guy Monsieur is brushing down his coat and turning his guilty head away from me. “Monsieur Poulet”, I say sternly “have you been romancing with these Madame’s”? The four youngsters have disappeared into the coup, in fear no doubt and keeping their distance. “No worries Chicken Maid!!. "Just leave it to me, I can sort my women out” says lippy cocky Monsieur. “I doubt it”, I say and trundle off and placate the situation with a fresh bowl of corn for all. “You best get back to that noise over there” he says getting the final word…

I look over to where I left the Tractor Man and “Oh my God”, he has fallen on his side with his right leg out stretched; his trouser bottom hooked on a branch that has levered his leg up so high that he cannot move. The Chain Saw is still going but at a distance. I can see that he is not hurt but I ask the question “Are you hurt dearest one? whatever happened?” “Don’t asked”, he says abruptly, “just get me out of this tree”. I desperately try not to snigger as I have never seen his leg up so high and curse that I have not got my camera to hand. Like, they do in a circus, I jump and grab hold of the branch that has grasped hold of Tractor Mans leg and pull the branch down to enable the trouser bottom to be released…

Apart from a scratch to his arm, no real harm has been done, also he is in fine voice as he gives me a lot of ear bashing about abandoning his cause. I gently remind him, when taking on dangerous tasks, that he really should read up on the Health and Safety procedures to ensure that accident like this do not happen. His dinner plate size hands lift to indicate my throat. I say, "put them away Dear One and lets have a nice cup of tea". "TEA" he says in an insulting manner. "I deserve something stronger than that.... "Men" I say to Monsieur Poulet...

19 - Panning for the Future

Having got to know quite a few people locally, that are adapting fully into THE GOOD WAY OF LIFE with tremendous enthusiasm for working their own smallholding. I can fully see the benefits why they would want to grow their own fruit and vegetables. Apart from Chickens many rear other types of poultry and farm animals for their own consumption, which include Sheep, Goats (for milk and cheese) and Pigs. All swear by how much tastier their produce is and how much healthier they feel in themselves. I questioned how this would tie them down but I am assured that there is a big enough network of self supporting smallholders in this area for everyone to help each other when and if...

Sounds good to me - maybe I should consider expanding. First things first, I have to see what Tractor Man thinks to the idea. "Great" he says, "We have plenty of Mint Sauce, so yes a couple of Lambs would be good to kick off with and they would help to keep the grass down", says the keen Engineer. "Oh No", its that black and white conversation again. "Do you know how to keep sheep" I ask. "What about their welfare, feeding, housing etc". "No need to concern yourself over that, there's always the Internet for sourcing answers" adds Tractor Man. "Mmmm, maybe just a good reference book would be better", I say knowing full well just how long the Internet-ism can keep the Tractor Man from doing other things. "Good idea" he says and goes to the Internet to find a good book on small farms. Oh no - I can't win, there goes another afternoon...

Taking the Tractor Man's arm, I steer him away from the computer out of the house and change the contents of the conversation. "Maybe we should consider having Geese, ducks and a turkey first and see how we get on, before we take on any lambs. At least we are getting a bit of a handle on the chickens just now". "Yes", he answers, "I see where you are coming from Dearest, but you still may have to pick the poultry up and you know the problem you are having with the chickens". Of course, my black and white man does indeed have a point. "I agree with you Darling but let us try and gain as much information as possible about farm animals between now and Spring and then reconsider our situation when the young ones are being born"...

My arm still tucked in with Tractor Man, we are walking towards Hen Pen Garden and all nine chicken's are lined up by the gate wanting attention or food. I point out a few Health and Safety issues with the fencing, as it is just a matter of time before something unforeseen happens. Without any hesitation, my man has his full attention on the job in hand and fixed the fencing up a treat..."Job Done" he says proudly and adds "Now where's my Tractor"?

18 - Pecking Order

Image - The Oldens sticking together

In the few weeks living our new life in France with our new found feathered friends, its good to see that the original birds have all put on a little bit of weight. I am either feeding them too much or they were not fed very well by their previous owners. The latter makes more sense being as they were only fed on corn then. I have know idea how to tell the age of our chicken's but all five have crusty old looking legs. Looking down and comparing my own, I would definitely say that they are getting on a bit but gracefully of course. The five youngsters have enormous appetites and don't mess about when food has been dished up. That is of course, if the elderly chickens allow them to get anywhere near the food. Heather and Feather in particular are quite a nasty couple towards the youngsters, forever pecking and pushing away the little ones. Of course, I do the obvious thing, put my hand on my hips and shout a thing or two - but who's going to listen to this old bird. Darling Heart says to leave them alone and they will sort themselves out eventually. I'm not convinced but then I am a novice after all. It looks at this stage, as if it is very much the old and new school, both families keeping their distance. When the youngsters get close to the oldens then the bullying starts, with a lot of pecking and pulling out of feathers. I have seen frequently Heather & Feather going for the youngsters eyes, this I am not happy with. "They are the first for the casserole dish" Say's Darling Heart. I tend to agree with him now, rather than see real damage done to the youngsters "but then on the other hand", I add, "who wants to eat tough old birds". "You won't notice any difference if I put them in a curry" he says convincingly...

Today I have started giving out the breakfast in two bowls instead of just the one. This is to ensure that the youngsters are guaranteed some nourishment in the mornings. I was surprised that the older birds still tried to chase the youngsters away from the second bowl by continuing with the aggressive pecking. To stop this continuing I stood fast between the two bowls, encouraging the young ones to have a peaceful undisturbed breakfast. When the older ones came near, it was easier for me to shoo them away. Giving them a final warning on the Curry Pot...

"So is it chicken curry tonight" says Darling Heart. "No please, lets leave it for now, lets give them a little longer, they will probably settle down" "and besides we need the eggs". I look pleadingly. "I don't think so, there's nine in the pantry today but I will give YOU more time to settle down" says Darling Heart as he goes out to check the tractor engine...

17 - Poulet Cuisine (Petit Dejeuner)

Image - two of the Youngsters

"Its terrific, the chickens eat all food scraps left over from our meals and it seems, not at all fussy about anything" I say enthusiastically to Emily and Louisa my daughters who will be visiting very soon now. Max Emily's fiance is also coming and we are all very much looking forward to the visit, even Sugar Plum is excited. I am delighted that I don't have to throw away left over food stuffs anymore, always did make me feel guilty - but not anymore. "What food do you give them", Emily asks, sounding interested. I am having this conversation via Skype with both daughters on the computer. Its free and we can chat for as long as we like, its helps me as I miss them terribly. "All sort" I respond, listing the contents. "Chopped cooked vegetable for one, they are also quite partial to potatoes, rice, pasta, chinese food and don't say no to a little lasagna". Also, they adore cheese and can get quite aggresive trying to get to the last morsel. Most of all though, there most favourite food of all time is roast chicken skin and even quite partial to the parsons nose." At this my daughters are in uproar, shouting and screaming at me at the top of there voices, that I should not be giving chickens, chicken to eat. "Why ever not" I respond. "Well its obvious why not" says Louisa. "Is it really, well then why not, I don't give it to them everyday and they simply adore the flavour". Louisa and Emily are beside themselves in anguish. "Its inhuman" says Emily, "They are not human" I respond "Canabalism even" adds Emily. I am desparately trying not to laugh and just steady my sensible hat. I have been giving the chickens scraps like this for a while now and to be honest there have been no adverse side effects. Pretty much happy, shiny coats, wet nose and not so skinny anymore - yes they are healthy, no problem there. "They love Sage and Onion stuffing with it of course". I add. "You are treating the chickens like children" they say to me. "Don't be so daft, I just give them scraps that are left over from every day meals". It keeps me happy, as I am not throwing away food and the chickens just love the interesting variety of Petit Dejeuner given to them each morning", its a win win really" Its exhausting arguing this one so I put one final question to them. "If you can prove that chickens eating chicken is a bad thing, then I would be interetsted to know more".... If you have a response to this subject, please post your comments below - thank you....

16 - You are not eating my girls

Image below - Sugar Plum

"Hello Sugar Plum, its me Scrum" I say to my husband, who is in England working. "Can't wait for you to come back home, I have a terrific surprise for you" I say enthusiastically. "Really, what's that then"? - "sorry can't say, as I said its a surprise". "Give us a clue then" he says sounding exasperated. "Nope". "If its anything to do with Tractors or Food, I'm interested, am I close" he says. Oh dear he is close - but I'm not for having my girls eaten. "You will see tomorrow, when you get back here" rapidly, I change the subject and remind him that his Sister Pauline and John our Brother Inlaw are arriving in a couple of days time and start to talk menu's. He bounces back "will they like the surprise". "Undoubtedly but Sugar Plum can we please talk menu's"?...

Sugar Plum arrives back home on time and he is beaming from ear to ear. "So where is this surprise" he says. "Whatever happened to Hello darling, how have you been, big hugs and kisses" I say, with fist clenched, "Oh yes, I forgot", then wraps his engineering arms around me, pats me with his dinner plate size hands and plants a smackeroo on my forehead. I wriggle out of this vice like grip, grab one of his dinner plate hands and drag him out to Hen Pen Garden. "There you are, our four new babies, all hens". I smile enthusiastically, hoping that he will be pleased with the family increase. The four new chicks were as yesterday huddled together by the fence, still feeling insecure and possible afraid of the older chickens. "Don't you think they look so cute and they are only eight weeks old". "Yes, you have done well and they look in good nick, but more importantly, when can we eat them"? I give him that How very dare you look and say as much. "No one is for eating my chicks", I elbow him in annoyance and start to walk away. Oh no - here come those dinner plates again but I walk a little faster. "Scrummy" - he says "stop, lets just talk about this sensibly". I know what sensible is with this guy all black and white, and engineering matter in between. He wants to eat these lovely chicks and I cannot argue with him, we had the "living the good life" conversations many time before we moved to France. Right now I just cannot be faced with this side of the good life. It was so much easier to go into Tesco's and pick up a ready prepared chicken to roast, even if they were battery hens. "I must get my head out of this time warp", I tell myself. He continues but I am not wanting the discussion, I know its me that has to get real and also how do I approach this with my lovely daughters who will be here in two weeks time "Chickens taste so much better if you rear them yourself" he persists, "and so says everyone else Sugar Plum, but for now haven't you got a dead tree to chop down"?...

15 - The Young Ones

Image - The four younsters

Its a long drive home and I wish I had left my face mask on, the smell from the four youngsters is putrid. The windows are open and I successfully rummage for tissues to hold to my mouth to ease up on the gagging. With difficulty I attempt to talk to the anxious girls that are making quite a racket in the back of the car "not long now girls, soon be home and tucked up in your new home Hen Pen". I jam on the brakes, its an emergency the gagging has got the better of me and I wonder have I got Bird Flu or some other nasty disease. 10 minutes later after a drink of water and a few deep breaths of fresh air, I am on my way again and at speed with the fan full blast on in my face. Reconciling my doubtful purchase with the fact that I shall be giving the hens a good life with much more freedom and excellent Poulet cuisine, makes me feel better about the situation...and wondering what Sugar Plum will think of today's purchase.

With wheelbarrow to hand I ease the box out of the back of the car, "no more tilting up for my girls" I mutter, I want happy hens. I wheel the load into Hen Pen, put the box on the ground and untie the string. The youngsters stay put huddled up together not wanting to move. "Uppy Duppy you are safe here, come on girls" I say encouragingly...

The five original chickens are looking on. Monsieur Poulet has his hands on his hips giving me that all important look again. "No good looking at me like that Monsieur, it doesn't impress me none, these chicks are here to stay". Madam Poulette, gives me that sideways glance and fluffs up her skirt and sidles up to Monsieur. Heather, Feather and Attitude are cautiously looking on at a distance and checking out their manicure and smoothing down their feathers. "I truly expect you five to set an example here and get on nicely with these youngsters" I say, hoping.

The youngsters slowly get out of the box, they are very frightened and instantly huddle together and stay like that for several hours. I introduce them to baby mash and fresh water, which they tuck into immediately and later in the evening I settle them in the coup for a well deserved good night sleep...Now for a chat Sugar Plum...

14 - Increasing the Girls

I am now at the stage where I am feeling a little more comfortable with the residence of Hen Pen and don't fear so much that they will peck me to death. Picking the chickens up is still something that I cannot get to grips with, so for now that part of being A Chicken Maid is on hold. I don't see it as a totally necessary act, but for now I just enjoy getting to know my Feathered Friends. Madam Poulette continues to be broody but comes off the nest each day for about 15 mins, during this time I endeavour to collect any eggs she may have laid and don't worry myself silly about picking her up anymore..

Today is Market day and its going to be a big one I am told, I am keen to get there early to see what's going on in Chicken Corner. Feeling a little more confidant this time, as I know more or less what to expect but again it is very hot, so I take with me my face mask and drinking water to avoid gagging and retching. I have arranged to meet up with "The Experts" in the hope that they will teach me the basics in identity. Again it is very popular with the Brits and the French with people buying all sorts, Guinea Fowl, Turkey's, Chicken's etc. Much of the poultry looks really ugly and dirty but most of all very smelly - not my favourite place to be and already I am starting to gag, so I walk away. {B} shouts to me "There's some nice 8 week old fattener's here Carol", "really" I say. "you don't want anymore layers" he adds, "as you will have too many eggs to cope with". I agree with {B} and not sure why I am agreeing anything but these small chickens really do look cute. I have been told that all the chickens are ex battery, instantly I want to rescue them all but I settle for four eight week old chicks; two white and two tan and been assured that they are all hens and not cockerels. The stall holder puts the hens in a good size box by my insistence, don't want my birds couped up unnecessarily in a small box. She ties a piece of string round the box and hands the box to me. As I pick up the box the first thing to happen is that the chicks all slide down to one end as the box tilted. Instantly the chicks are alarmed and start to chirrup like mad. "No problem", I say to the stall holder smiling, who was watching me carefully. My pride being dented due to my mis management of the situation and instantly realising that the smaller box would have been more ideal for transporting my new born's. I tilt the box up hoping for a better balance within the contents but then, they all slide to the other end of the box. I smile and wipe the sweat from my brow, gagging and desperately wanting to run a mile but I stood my ground. {A} suggested that I just pick up the box and carry it to my car! yes I had thought of that but I know how these little lovelies can peck. They have room enough to put there heads out of the hand made air holes and then I would be in even more trouble with the obvious pecking order.

Driving home I wished I had just settled for buying vegetables but here I have four little chickens chirping away in the back of the car, that I have to release into their new Hen Pen home...yet another obstacle to overcome...

13 - The experts are here

Image - The Poultry People Amanda & Bernie

The Poultry People A & B are now in Normandy and visited us today. In the five days since there arrival here in Normandy they have purchased 3 Toulouse Geese, ordered in advance of the move, as well as ducks and chickens from the local market. We invite them in and you guessed it here comes the millions and one questions stored in my head. We have a fabulous lunch just getting to know each other and immediately we know we will all get along well, so many things in common and interests. With many questions answered we then, show them around and of course they want to see Hen Pen Garden and the Chickens. Fully expecting A & B to say pull the coups down once they set eye's on them; they surprised me further and said the coups are fine, they just need a bit of a clean. At this point I cringe and shrink back into my own private clean world (I want my townie life back). "but the cobwebs, have you seen the length of them"? I say in alarm! "and the shitty saw dust is 2 inches thick". I was back in the Indiana Jones film, imagining all sorts crawling out of the wood work and not surviving. Yet, another nightmare to get over. I succumb, that this is just another test in life to endure and tell myself to "get a grip and get over it", that it is just another cleaning job that needs attention "BUT YUK" never had a phobia before about such things - "why now" I question myself. At this point Amanda says, "would you like us to do it"? I am gob smacked at this point that anyone should want to help with this task. Without a moments hesitation I say "Oh Yes Please" and before I know it, it is all arranged that they come round the next morning. "There is a God" I say out loud and we all laugh, pinching myself at such kindness...

The next morning all went to plan A & B arrived armed with appropriate gear and got on with the job of clearing out the coups, whilst I wheelbarrow the majority of the poo to the - to be veggie patch. 30 wheelbarrow loads all told; and as they say excellent manure. Horrible job that had to be done and the help was very much appreciated. After giving the walls and ground a thorough spray of a disinfection solution, I then covered the floor with 1" thickness of fresh saw dust. My Chickens, do now live in 5 star accommodation. Bernie had suggested that being as I only had 5 chickens, it was not really necessary to have two coups going at the same time and why not use Coup 2 for storage. "What an excellent idea" so coup 2 in not now accessible for the chickens. He also said, that coup 1 is large enough to accommodate upto 12 Chickens..."Fabulous" I say. Thank you so much Amanda and Bernie...

12 - Flirting with Monsieur Poulet

Image - Monsieur Poulet

"Oh Please girls", "how could you". Heather and Feather are flirting with Monsieur Poulet. "Have you no pride", "he really is not worth so much attention and you know what the outcome will be - more tears". Monsieur is being necked by both the girls at once. He is standing very tall, stretching his neck and fluffing out his feathery ruffle round his neck. There is no doubt that he is a handsome cockerel and obviously admired by the hens. The girls are cleaning him up, pecking lightly all round his neck and chest. He has his eye's shut and thoroughly enjoying the attention. "Don't come crying to me with a sore back later" I say to Heather and Feather but as always I am totally ignored. I have seen just how rough this guy can be and it wouldn't be the first time I have seen the damage he can do with those dreadful spurs at the back of his legs, drawing blood every time. I tell my concerns to Sweetness my Tractor Man, to which he responds "that's my boy, good for him" "not much good to us if he doesn't do the business" "Yeh but Sweetness - two hens at once"."Its in his jeans" adds, a smiling Sweetness..." On dear, Oh dear" I mutter...

Later that day there is a dreadful racket going on in Hen Pen. I shoot out there like grease lightning to find out what's it all about. Yes, its Monsieur Poulet doing the business, not with Heather or Feather as would have been expected but with Attitude Hen. The noise is unbelievable, with Heather and Feather doing a double take round Hen Pen, yelling at the top of their heads - no doubt cries of rejection. Monsieur and Attitude are making Whoopee. "See", I say to Heather and Feather "I told you so"... I feel a little sad for Heather and Feather the two blond madams, had put so much effort into grooming Monsieur...

11 - To the Market

Everywhere you go in France, the Markets in towns or villages are fabulous; especially for fresh food produce: Meat, Fish, Cheese, Fruit and Vegetables. Local growers and farmers will proudly display their tempting food source, which is always good value for money. Today, I go armed with my Shopping Trolley a sensible choice - don't want my arms being pulled out of their sockets carrying heavy loads, especially on a sizzling hot day like today. Its not long before I have my load - my favourite cheese, apricots to make jam and loads of vegetables. We are both guilty of being vegaholics, loving as much variety of seasonal vegetables as possible piled high on our dinner plates, with our chosen meat or fish dish...

Close by I hear an English person talking, saying that their are some chickens for sale at today's market. I poke my nose in and say "where", I am only curious at this stage. They point me in the right direction and I am off in search - thinking , planning to have "The Conversation" to perhaps a stall holder about keeping chickens...

I am shocked when I get there, so many hundreds if not thousands of baby chick piled high; crate upon crate. The smell is worse, doesn't help that it is so hot. The chicks look exhausted, tired and no doubt thirsty as they scramble over each other for survival. I have an urge to rescue them all but I hold back on this one for now. There are also older chicks 6, 8 weeks old as well as, Turkeys, Guinea Fowl, Ducks, Geese and more. I hold my hand over my mouth as I was now gagging on the smell. I observe the customers English and French buying up at speed all varieties and carrying them away in boxes provided my the stall holder. I learn a lot by just listening in on some of the conversations from the Brits, could not join in - dare not open my mouth for fear of what might come out. I make a rapid exit without the conversation...

It was quite apparent that the majority of Poultry was being bought for eventual food source (the dinner plate). This is something else I cannot get my head around just yet. Up until now I for one have always understood the benefits of growing and rearing your own food source. Carefully grown vegetable without insecticides etc can only be of benefit. The same I feel with meat and poultry. Rearing animals for your own needs, knowing exactly what food they are eating, can only make good common sense. No colouring added to meat and definitely no pumped in water to make them look larger than they actually are. Yes, I want to know what I am eating - nothing has changed. But..but..but..could I eat my own reared chickens knowing how well they have been fed and looked after. Definitely NOT at this moment..

10 - The Coups

Image - Coup 1 left, Coup 2 right

Since day one, I have not been happy with the state of the coups. On the ground the coups are covered with 2" thick carpet of saw dust and chicken poo. Stinks like buggary and the cob webs are black and hanging limp like in long thick strands upto 18". "Yuk" I hate every time I have to walk into the coups, in fact I dread it almost as much as attempting to pick up a chicken. Reminds me of the film "Indiana Jones", or worse. I have already mentioned this to the experts A & B and they have said leave it for now and we will access the situation within the next week, "Its probably really alright" says Bernie "just hold in there a little longer". "I will", I promise. I have already run this by Sweetie Pie but he says "its fine, you worry too much. Besides the set up those chickens have is more like a 5 star hotel". "Yeh But", I respond "perhaps if you were in Health and Safety for Chickens, you might feel differently". Sweetie Pie gives me a big engineering hug and plants an affectionate kiss on the top of my head. "Yeh but.. would you like to tread that muck bare footed" Got him at last - as I polish my nails on my t-shirt!! this is a man that would not tread sand at the sea side, let alone a chicken coup. Sweetie Pie responds "I would if I were a chicken"....

9 - In Prison

Images - The troublesome hens

Madam Poulette once again sneers, growls and has a go at pecking me this morning. I abandon any idea of trying to pick her up, my confidence level has dropped to minus 10. Hen Attitude, continues to just sit in the far corner of Coup 2 and although successful in shooing her out to join the rest, she continues to squawk like mad, running her marathon at the same time, nr 30 miles per hr - I guess. "How stupid can you get", I say, wondering if hens do have variable degrees of behaviour patterns. "Time will tell, no doubt" once again, muttering to myself. I also think, if people in England heard the way I talk to my new found feathered friends, they would probably classify me totally mad and lock me away - ha ha. I reconcile myself to my muttering that "at least its keeping me sane"...

"Bonjour Carrolll - Ca va!! a double twist to the rr's in Carol and a triple twist to the lll's make my name for the first time ever, sound quite cool - even attractive. I make a mental note to encourage Malcolm to speak to me more with a French accent, he would probably get better results from me instead of Oiu, Scrum or FOB (Sorry can't divulge to an audience what this means. (our little secret)). However I will respond to any guess below put on comments!! "Bonjour {N}, {C} - Ca va trei bien" I respond to the previous owners, who now lives close by. They have come over to let me know that they will be away for the weekend and to ask if everything is alright with me. What a prize opportunity, I think to myself. Yes - correct, here comes the million questions buzzing around in my head, well for now perhaps just a couple. "The Poulet" I say and encourage them to walk with me to Hen Pen Garden. Once again in limited French, I make in-roads in making them understand the problems I have with Attitude & Madam Poulette. "Is this normal" I say. "No problem Carrrollll" says smiling {N}". {C} his wife is talking to me about her Grand daughter and I am desperately trying to understand some of the words she is saying from my French Lessons. At the same time I am alarmed that {N} has put his hand on the back of Madam Poulette neck and then picks her up by the scruff and has taken her outside the coup. I follow, as I definitely do not like the way she is squawking. Before I know it, both hens are shut away in coup 2 and the door locked. "Prison" {C} says smiling "no food or water for 3 days", they will then behave themselves....

My jaw drops and for once I am speechless. I slap myself into action and say "no, this is not necessary, they are not bad birds", its just that I need to understand how to handle situations" I stammer. "The hens will be fine in 3 days - no problem" says smiling {N}. "no food or water is best", I am re-assured by {C}. "God, if this is the way the French do it, then I will not be asking them another question". Maybe I am totally naive: I ask myself and this is how you make chickens behave themselves. "Keep an open mind and do your homework later", I tell myself...

Outside Hen Pen garden, I ask {N} another question, "is it normal for grass to be this waist high? is this what chickens like"? "No, No Carrolll" and walks into my barn and comes out with a scythe. The forever smiling {N} walks into Hen Pen garden and starts to cut the long grass down. My turn to say "No, No {N}, I was not asking you to cut the grass, I can do that, I was just asking the question". We are at the stage when anything and everything said is lost. I am panic stricken and can't think straight for fear of my two lovely hens, which are squawking like mad in coup 2...

We say our goodbye's and I go in-doors for a wine and start to search the Internet for Chicken Prison. I find nothing and I listen outside for the birds but they have quietened down, thankfully...

I struggle like mad coming to terms with this situation and I am definitely not happy. I text Sugar Plum my husband and he just comes back with "not good" and no solution. I do not sleep all night, this cannot be right, I will have to let them out. First thing in the morning, I phone A & B the couple that are moving here in a couple of days and poor my heart out about the events of yesterday. No hesitation from them, "let them out", "chickens get it very quickly but with food and water" they say...I let Madam Poulette and Attitude out of coup 2 and they are fine but just a little bewildered and happy to receive a huge breakfast. The hens were only isolated for less than a day but Madam Poulette has stopped brooding and Attitude hen has now joins in with the gang.

8 - Ouch

I could not sleep last night, knowing the inevitable. I do not want chicks yet, so removing eggs from Madam Poulette is important, I think...

Sugar Plum!! showed me exactly how to pick her up, so here I am with gardening gloves on, dungarees and wellies - ready to do this dreadfully dastardly deed. Madam takes one look at me and already she is growling at me - I snarl back "give me a break please" I beg. I spread my hands out as Malcolm showed me yesterday; already I feel inadequate, his hands are the size of dinner plates, mine small saucers. "Go for it Carol" I tell myself. At speed I enfold my hands over her back and should be wings, I turned my head away, "How can something so simple be so difficult" I mutter. She struggles and pecks at my gardening gloves "Ouch" I shout out, but she does not hurt me, safe with the gloves on. Then suddenly she is out of my grip and plops down hard on the floor. Yes, I had dropped Madam Poulette. I am devastated with myself and know immediately that I should have held her more firmly. "Oh, I am so sorry", I say to her "You did not deserve that, please forgive me" and so I go on being totally pathetic, pleading forgiveness from a chicken...

3 eggs I remove from Madam Poulette's nest and slowly make my way back to sanity, shaken to the core. "Where the hell is Sugar Plum when I need him,". Its too early for a well needed nip of Calvados, so I settle for a strong coffee and read up more from my Poultry Bible. "Not that it seems to be doing me much good so far" But I must pursue the cause...

7 - How to Handle a Chicken

Image - Man and Toy

"Bonjour Monsieur Poulet, Bonjour Madam Poulette, how are we all today then" my Husband-sugar plum says, as we both approach Hen Pen. Apart from a bit of flapping of wings, he gets little other in response "How are we coming along with the eggs, how many eggs today girls?" he chatters on, as if he has known them all his life...

After a little coaxing Sugar Plum has succumbed to my wishes and is about to show me how to handle a chicken. First we go into Coup 2 and the black hen is as always in the far corner in solitary confinement of her own choice. Malcolm shoo's her out and as always she squawks like mad and makes a dash for it. One look at his size 13 shoes and she is not for an argument with this guy - and I don't blame her!! "Hmm, no eggs in here". We then go into Coup 1, its the smaller of the two coups and where the chickens sleep at night. Madam Poulette is once again sitting cosily in the nest. "Right then, this is how you handle a chicken" Madam Poulette has an eye on him and I wonder how she is going to react. He spreads his hands out and then covers her back and wings and then slowly lifts her out of the nest. He then tucks her under his arm and strokes her tendily. Sugar Plum, then encourages me to stroke her, which I do and and make the comment on how soft she is. "She's lovely" he says "a really nice bird, you won't have any problem with her"...

Madam Poulette had been sitting on four eggs. -I sigh "A result at last". On close examination of the eggs, I notice that all the eggs are different sizes and shapes. This time we do not eat them, as we cannot be sure on how long they have been there...

"Tractor time" Malcolm says. "No, No" I say. I am still concerned that I have not handled the chicken myself yet" I argue. "You will be fine" he says , "have a go tomorrow and see how you get on, its really very easy". "But Sugar Plum, you will not be here for the next 4 days" I say, feeling exasperated - he has to go back to work in England. He is walking toward his new toy as he is talking to me and I know that its all a bit hopeless persuing the cause any longer. "Think what your daughters will say, when they arrive if they know you are afraid to pick up a chicken"...He has a point, I have to get a grip on this silly situation and be strong, can't have my daughters laughing at me, now can I...

6 - A trip to the Coast

Image - Grits and Shells

My chickens need grits and shells says Amanda and also the book mentions the same. Where best to go for such a food source but the sea side. Its a bright sunny day and we are only 35mins from the coast. I check out my basket contents before I set off; bucket and spade, adult size of course, a towel, sun tan lotion, i-pod to catch up on my French lessons and a small picnic. I'm all set to go but first I dash over to Hen Pen to say my good bye's and explain that they will have a nice surprise treat latter on today. "Be sure Monsieur Poulet to behave yourself and don't keep giving the hens a hard time", "we don't need chicks yet" I add. He gives me that all important superior look, as if to say "I'm in charge here". I wave my finger at him and say "I mean it Monsieur, just behave or Malcolm will have you in the casserole dish for our supper tonight". He cocks his head back and cock-a-doodle-doo's at me, or rather the neighbouring Cockerel, who responds immediately - and so it goes on back and fourth. I think it quite amusing to watch and listen to them. "Keep it up and you will both have a sore throat". I tear myself away from these time wasters, I don't need delays on this all important mission day "To the Sea Side" but first I dash in doors to pick up my Tilly hat as the sun is very strong already this morning...

The coastline stretches both ways for miles, listening to the surf rolling back and fourth, I was in seventh heaven. Since I was a child my favourite sounds have always been the sea surf and bird songs. There's quite a few people about but who cares, my birds need sand which is very fine here - probably near perfect for their needs. I set too and start shovelling, not realising just how heavy it is. So I end up not getting as much as originally intended "I can always come back for more" I mumble out load. "Not far to come either and a very pleasant drive". Only one wish at this point, that my lovely daughters could be here with me, I just know they would love all of this. I could not get Malcolm to come as he doesn't like sand between his toes (what a wooos) - but would prefer the option of Engine Oil instead. Besides he is on Tractor duty today...

I get back home after a restful day with my 2 heavy loads of sand and loads of shells. I give the sand and shells a thorough wash and set it out in the sun to dry. I wonder "Has anyone else gone this far for their feathered friends" I would be interested to know.

5 - Hands on

Image - Madam Poulette

"Malcolm, I really do have an urgent need for you to show me how to handle chickens". "How do I pick them up without hurting them"? At this point Malcolm is 100% absorbed with his new Tonka Toy purchase - A Compact Tractor! This fabulous toy will do everything required for running our land mass - except of course, showing me how to pick up chickens. "Take a look at this bit of kit", "its built like a brick shit house" he says smiling. I have more urgent things on my mind. He continues, "Great bucket for transporting the logs and look at that engine" he says enthusiastically. "Mmmm terrific purchase" I say, trying to sound convincing. I conclude at this point that he has his Engineering hat on and there will be little point in attempting to fight the cause any further...I trundle back to the house, grab the all important Poultry Bible and look through the index, on how to handle chickens - Yes you guessed it, nothing. However, from the book I do indeed establish that Madam Poulet is possibly brooding...

Ah Ha, got an answer at last and one all important suggestion is that, if you don't want chicks, then it is best to take the eggs away as soon as possible. "Oh Yes Great - state the obvious" ,"HOW", I shout out angrily. At this point Malcolm comes back into the house. "Right" he says cheerily, "the tractor is all set up for you to take it for a ride, its really great fun, come and have a go"...Book in right hand - what do I do next?

4. Miss Attitude

Image - Madam Attitude

"So you are in here again" I say to the little black hen. She appears to be a bit of a loner, preferring to sit quietly in the furthest corner of coup 2 on her own. Can't see too much of what's going on in here as its quite dark, I scan the ground for eggs. "No eggs again today ". I go up to her and talk gently, once again trying to gain trust. She is not for moving, so I coax her gently with my foot, in the hope that she will not bite my leg off - she squawks like mad at me and runs out of the coup. She continues to squawk as she runs several times round Hen Pen garden. "What a load of fuss about nothing" I muse and decide she definitely has attitude. I look down to where she had been squatting, definately no eggs...

I contact a couple we know quite well Amanda and Bernie who will be moving here permanently in a few days to ask them just one question. I want to asked a million questions but I know they are packing and time is valuable to them just now. They have full hands on knowledge on Poultry generally, as they have kept all sorts over the years. Amanda answers the phone. "The hens are not laying eggs", "do you think there is a problem"? Amanda goes into depth many possible reasons why they may not be laying. Her first question is "What are you feeding them"? "Corn" I reply. "They need vitamins, shells, grits", "give them any left over food you may have, they are scavengers and will eat anything". I want to kick myself for not realising the obvious...."Thanks Amanda you are a gem"...

I rush full speed to the fridge and prepare a tasty overdue cuisine for my lovely half starved feathered friends. "Getting there" I say to myself with a new found confidence

3. Getting to grips with reality

Image - Heather & Feather

I had already established that the four hens are egg layers and not for eating but so far nothing. I read up in my poultry book the whys and wherefore's but I do not see any obvious answers. They all look healthy enough to me, eating the daily corn and drinking plenty of water. However, there are a couple of things that I am not sure about though; one is that the two coups do not look very clean. Secondly should the grass really be waist high? I jot these notes down in my mental note pad for further research...

I have always wanted to be a Country Girl, my true self would lean in that direction, being a good Brownie and Girl Guide but the reality and truth of the situation now is that I am a 95% townie. More and more I am realising I know next to nothing, in at the deep end and too afraid even to touch the birds. No!! I don't think they are going to bite my arm off, just a tad afraid of being pecked to death!! I observe that Madam Poulet is sitting in the same and only nest box again, "this can't be right", I mutter softly. I talk softly to her, coaxing her to trust me "Uppy Duppy madam, time for walkies" and gently stroke her back. She squawks loudly and Yes, you guessed it - near bites my arm off. I jump back in total alarm, stumbling over the corn feeder, dust flies up from the ground. I was in hell and could not escape quickly enough. Malcolm takes one look at me as I near fall through my entrance into the kitchen "What's up darling, you look a bit frazzled", "Oh nothing much Dear Heart, just trying to be a 100% Country girl"...

2. That's my Boy

Image - Madam Poulet

We are woken this morning at 6.30 to the sound of our crowing cockerel. "That's my Boy" Say's my husband in a sleepy voice. I get up and make us a nice cup of tea and there we sit in bed with the window wide open listening to Our Boy {Monsieur Poulet}. The sky is blue and there is a gently sun warming to our arrival on our first full day at LePalme d'Orcharde. "Is it normal for cockerels to crow for so long? it must be 20 mins he has been at it?" I ask. "Yes of course" says Malcolm who has much more experience in his earlier life than my very ignorant self. "His probably wanting some breakfast and of course there are eggs to be collected". Mmmm, I ponder this as the church bells start the 7am peel out. We listen to the Cock crowing and smile at each other while the bells ring out to call the farmers to the fields. Yes, this does feel like "The Good Life". I make the comment that I wish my children could have been brought up in such surrounding, Malcolm agrees...Anyway time to get up and kick in with life and the Hen Pen...

Whilst I go in search of eggs, Malcolm is preparing breakfast. I search everywhere, in the 2 coups and through the long grass in Hen Pen garden - but nothing. All five chickens give me a wide birth and all are acting a little fearful. "I can promise you, I will not hurt you" and I chatter on regardless trying to gain their confidence. "Breakfast is near ready - where's the eggs? I thought we would have scrambled eggs today" Malcolm shouts to me from afar!! "No eggs today Chef, they haven't delivered yet"...

The rest of the day is put to getting the house in order and reading up on Poultry.....

1. Inherited Chickens

Image - Monsieur Poulet

Today we moved into our newly purchased property that came with five chickens in Normandy. Having done the deed with the Notaire (Solicitor). We then ventured back to the farm mid afternoon with the Estate Agent and previous owner {N} and his wife {C} for a small celebration. A few friends and neighbours also joined us for a drink or two. What a great evening it turned out to be, with music, champagne and lots of laughter...

Having little to no knowledge of Chickens, I knew I had initially just one question for {N} in my limited French. "What about the Chickens"? Having not a clue on how to handle, keep, feed these newly acquired feathered friends. I was very keen for a little know how!! "How often do I feed them"? I asked in a subtle un-alcoholic manner, fearing they would think me a complete dip stick..Too late they thought it! "Four times a day" came the reply from {C}, smiling. My immediate response was "WHAT"!!! My second thought was - no more wine for her. "Once a day is enough" speaks up the ever smiling {N} and then invites me to go along with him to the coups. There he shows me the contents of a bin near full of Chicken feed. Phew!! that's a result at least I can feed them tomorrow. I had a million and one questions I needed to ask him at this point but he could not understand me and equally I could not understand him. I make a mental note that I need to speed up with my French lessons as I can see they have a lot to say...

At the end of my first day with my newly acquainted 5 Chickens, 1 Cockerel, 4 Hens, I now have a handle of one food source that they have on a regular basis. I also make another mental note to unpack the new Poultry book bought prior to leaving England and read up at speed.