Tuesday, 11 January 2011
The Dome is Alive With the Sound of Chickens!
If you want something doing, give it to a busy person. Ok here's the checklist. Sir Cakeatonne and Parsley now have a baby, two cats, a solardome, an allotment and THREE CHICKENS. All you can say in such a situation is 'It's wicked.' That's brought a few chuckles on when we've been talking about the workload. It does seem comical. Are we ahead of the season by putting in all this time or are we merely grabbing on for dear life? Either way I'm saying yes instead of no to the tasks at hand, even if I lack the initiative Cakeatonne!
The excitement surrounding the arrival of the chucks has been palpable the last week or so. Parsley showed me the coop she'd bought (an Eglu classic!), which was housed in the solardome. A day later and the chucks were in there rolling about and pecking like they'd never left home.
Parsley and I had been on the allotment when we got the bugle call off Cakeatonne. We sped back to find his mount unmanned with bags of feed lying about. I thought they'd flown off and escaped. But no. We walked up to the dome and there was a big cardboard box with some eyeholes/handles. I could hear some furtive scratching from inside and some quiet clucking. I knelt down and had a look in. Had to suppress a wild laugh as I saw a huge startled orange eye looking back at me. 'There has to be some kind of bewildered wisdom in that chicken brain of yours,' I thought. We were all very trepid as I peeled off the tape and opened up the top of the box. Salt-n-Pepa and Spinderella! (We were going to call them TLC, after T-Boz, Lefteye and Chilli). There they were in their bed of shredded paper. 'There's no time like the present,' I said, and plunged my hands in to pick up the first chuck. She was a lot bigger than I thought but at the same time a lot lighter. It was like holding a bag of helium that had feathers and a beak. Placed her in the coop and off she went pecking away like nothing had happened. Then Cakeatonne grabbed Spinderella as I grabbed Pepa and we stood there grinning like idiots as Parsley took a photo. In the coop they went as we launched all types of compliments at them, 'Ooh look at those feathers, aren't they lovely,' or 'You may not be JLS but you're fucking wicked,' along with mixed seeds (a treat). Later they had marmite on toast and apples. Made me wanna be a chicken.
Great animals, these. We just stood there in a kind of trance, watching them do their thing. Poor winks was terrified of them, staring at them from the safety of the dome exterior. Eric just cast them smouldering glances from the far windowsill, looking every inch a Mr Rochester or Frank Zappa. Haha, he really was emanating some scorn. Or were you just jealous, Smethwick?
They've already done a good job of tilling the soil, getting rid of weeds and eating seeds from our hands. The sensation of a warm chicken tongue on your palm is hilarious. And what good chicken would not lay an egg?! I had my first yesterday and it tasted awesome.
Happy G unit thymes (sic).