We have four chickens at the moment. They live at the top of the garden in a wooden chicken house along with Donald the duck. Donald has his own house, next door to the chickens, but he decided that theirs is much superior in some way and so has moved in. They all live in the same run which so far, cross fingers, has beaten the foxes.
Most days, when we are here, the chickens and Donald are free range. We have a reasonably sized back garden in which they are free to wonder. They sometimes wonder into the lane next to our house and scratch the road surface and dredge the ditches. The other day we opened the front door and there was a chicken expectantly waiting to be let in. I told her ‘no chickens allowed’ but I still had to pick him up and deposit him half way up the back garden before he got the hint
The chickens are a constant source of amusement to us and get into all sorts of things. Sometimes I need a bit of time after the event to see the funny side of things. They have been known to pull up my vegetable seedlings just after I planted them, knowledgeably waiting until I had disappeared back into the house for a coffee. When I went back outside, about 15 minutes later, all trace had gone of every plant and the chickens had moved on!! Now even slugs aren’t that quick.
We have been naming the chickens for ages. This has been done with the aid of Amy, our 6 year old grandchild and Abi her little 2 year old sister who believe pink is a good name for one of them. The others were named over several evenings that involved red wine and older family and friends.