Here I sit, drinking a fresh latte, watching our hens turn their already mudbath-like run into a swamp. Gone is the fresh grassy patch they have eaten/scratched/pooed all over and a lovely soily mess has replaced it.
Not that we care at all - they are obviously having a great time, clucking and pecking their day away. Two of the the three hens are now laying, so fresh warm, brown eggs are ready every day - the familiar "bok bok bok bok bok" sounds inform us that they have laid.
Their little hen house is cosy - darling husband and his friend built it, and the hens sleep on finely shredded paper - from my office and home, and then we compost it. Marvellous!
Monica, Mildred and Chocolate are full of character, for hens. They come running when you call them, feed out of your hand and crouch down for a tickle when you enter the run.
I think it's amazing that our two-year-old knows how to care for them, and enjoy it too. The shouts of "Mummy they've pooed AGAIN!" could be heard throughout the neighbourhood, when we first got them - I think it was a total shock how much hens actually did poo! But, it's full of nitrogen - a must for healthy compost breakdown. I've also been told you can pee on a compost heap to help it degenerate, but I don't think my elderly neighbours would be prepared to see my squatting on top of the compost bin first thing in the morning...
Anyone for omelette?