The mad, crazy party weekend is finished and our eldest boy is 18 and we are all still in recovery mode. Saturday dawned misty, mizzly and with strong gusts of wind so getting the party tents up (and staying up) was challenging. I understand that G had a great time - parents don't get the full details, obviously, but T was there to spy for us and we got some of the gory details (which I'll spare you!). Suffice to say, by the time all the rubbish had been cleared up and everything put away again he had a hot bath and went straight to bed - after all, he had to be ready for his actual birthday night.
I chauffeured them all to the rugby club then came home and had a couple of hours knitting on my own - bliss! Having said he wasn't up to partying long and hard again G came home at 3.30am - oh, to be 18 again!
So yesterday was, as predicted, quiet and hungover but I got no accounts done as I was, frankly, too knackered!
Sadly, on Sunday night when the boys were at the rugby club I put the chickens away and discovered that our favourite girly was missing. Went down to check every 15 minutes but no joy and everyone assumed the worst. Unless you own chickens you probably think the concept of having a "favourite" one is absurd but this one is a real character - called Ginger (but pronounced the French way jeangee) she discovered an exit route from the hen run, is the first at our back door every day for scraps, will take pasta from your hand and will now come into the kitchen to eat from the cats' bowl. She is very intelligent and very sweet and we just couldn't believe that she'd been "got" by Mr Fox - she's just too bright.
So, yesterday evening G went to have a good hunt for her and, amazingly, in the biggest bank of brambles you've ever seen:
Ginger had gone broody and was sitting on no less than 17 eggs! She had babies once before and was a fearsome and brilliant mother so we'd always said we'd let her sit again. It was clear, though, that - as she'd only been missing for one night - she'd abandoned all bar one of those eggs every night so there was no way they were going to hatch. We needed to rescue her and try and encourage her to sit on a batch of everyone else's eggs which might actually hatch. The rescue mission was planned. First, the boys trotted down to the farm to get an old rabbit hutch:
Eric the three-legged cat was intrigued. Then we had to grab Ginger:
(This gives you an idea of where she'd got herself [very good spot - very hard to get at her!]). Then we had to put her plus some eggs in the hutch:
and hope that she'd settle and then this morning we'd put some other warm, fresh eggs under her and remove these ones.
A good plan. Sadly didn't work quite as we'd hoped as she proved nigh on impossible to catch and did a runner back to the main hen house where she was finally caught by T. All a bit stressful. She's now in the hutch and is half-heartedly sitting but coming out every time another chicken comes near and, of course, the boys are getting very fretful at not being able to get at her!
We put black plastic over the front to make it nice and dark for her. Deidre is intrigued:
In the meantime it appears that one of the black hens has gone broody so, if Ginger, doesn't get a grip she'll find herself back in the big house with the others and little black hen (who will no doubt, originally, be called "Blacky") will be in the hutch. You have been warned, Ginger!
After that exciting end to the weekend, I had an early night!
PS: I knitted G a pair of socks for his birthday. He was grateful though they may have been slightly overshadowed by the new mountain bike. He's promised to model them for me. I'll take pics.
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