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...
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