Redster: Six and two thirds
Cutester: Three and a half


I can’t keep up a blog, so the only way is to cheat. I’m going to retro-blog and just try stopping me. I don’t care if no-one on the whole interweb ever reads it, I’m not going to check my stats, I just want a record for posterity. You never ever remember the things they say, and they will never believe you, if you don’t write it down.

Anyway, never mind the children – babymother and her brood have three new chickens! As the last two were Lola and Lotta (characters from Charlie and Lola, if you didn’t know), the Redster has decided to keep the ‘L’ theme and insisted on Louise for ‘her’ chicken, so the others are, just as prosaically, Lydia and Lucy. Louise is the trouble maker. The other two are Rhode Island Reds, like our last dearly departed pets, and only newly grown up, so adorable and not very bright. Louise is a Bluebelle. I wanted her because she has beautiful blue-grey plumage and black accessories (beak, feet etc). As she’s older than the others I got her for a fiver. What the seller didn’t mention is that she’s not a chicken.

I don’t know what she is – a bird of prey at least, but possibly a pteradactyl or a phoenix. She is all wild and wily. I know she’s not a chicken because she can fly to the roof of the garden shed, even though we had her wings clipped. You’ll be sitting at the kitchen table when a tap-tap on the glass tells you that she’s out of the chicken enclosure and on the window sill again, trying to communicate in morse code. Then she’s off ransacking the garden, or possibly the neighbour’s. The other two will make an effort to get into the coop at nightfall, but not Louise. I find her every evening perching on the shed roof, peering down.

The sad thing is that she’s probably safer there than in the coop. Babyfather heard a ruckus the other night at 9.30 before the chickens were safely in their henhouse (it was still light, but only just) and ran out to find two chickens racing across the lawn and the third in the mouth of a young fox. The fox fled and the chicken (Lydia – Louise would have made mincemeat of the fox) got off with a single tooth-mark in her back. Now it’s lights out at 8.30pm, like it or not.