What the Chickens!

Our three backyard Dr Who companions wear their privations well. While we were in England who knows what went on: before we left they were laying in at least predictable places: in wheelbarrows, chimeneas, even sometimes in their nesting box.

Something must have happened though because when we came back they were laying in the leaf compost, on the shelves in the garage, not very often in their nesting box.

And things only got worse. Now it seems that open warfare has been declared by our local crow, a rather beautiful if large and daunting bird with striking Celeste blue eyes and plumage so black it's almost midnight; and behind that Torresian crow's eyes a crafty intellect; it hangs around until the chickens do their thing, watching them; and when they're done down it swoops to steal our eggs. if Nicole or Eloise go out it'll flap away but then glide back down again as soon as their backs are turned to claim its prize.

Which leaves us on egg patrol for the moment in the hope that we can beat young Colin to our eggs, and maybe he'll (I don't actually know if it's male or not) get the message and squawk off somewhere else.

I went out the other morning and found an egg on the windscreen wiper of the car with a little hole in it. Clucking Bell, I thought, that's a clever crow. It turned out that Nicole had found the egg but couldn't be bothered taking it upstairs, so she'd left it on the car. Obviously really. In hindsight.