We’re chicken-sitting for one of our daughters, just for a month or three until the work on their garden has been completed and the outdoor wiring replaced. Their plans include a magnificent new chicken run, but meanwhile their three hens will have to make do with one of our brooding pens.
They really didn’t want to leave their old home. Both Jean and I received an admonitory pecking as we transferred them to the poultry crate. They were still grumpy when we put them into their new house.
As always, it took a while for them to become acclimatised. My attempts to photograph them at the drinker tended to startle them, so all I got were pictures of aggrieved fluffy bottoms disappearing into the safety of the house.
The cheap shelf at Morrisons yielded treats of cabbage and melon for them, but those can wait until the morning.