It’s been a while since I uploaded any photos but the last few weeks, I’ve been meaning to snap this daffodil, which was one of the first in the garden and, just outside the patio door, is something I pass every day to the chicken coop.

Photograph of a daffodil in my garden.

And on the subject of chickens…

This is Boudicca. She pecks. Everything. Mrs Bump just calls her Pecker, but I put a bit more thought in, and that was how she became Boudicca. Everything. When she first arrived, she pecked the other chickens. Now she pecks me. That’s how I recognise her. Excuse my feet.

Here she is in a less flattering pose:

as you can guess, this is about a millisecond before she pecked the phone.

Just for completeness, here are the two together. Cate is in the background. She was always the placid one. Gets on with life, just like me. Note their colours.

I don’t wish to make a point, but here is one, when she first got here last summer, straight from the battery.

photo chicken

Unrecognisable. Next time you buy eggs from the supermarket, this is what you’re supporting.


  1. Look at that gorgeous yellow daffodil! I have a soft spot of daffs. I planted mine over 25-years ago, and every year without fail, they reappear, bright and welcoming, and reassuring that I’ve survived another winter (our family is known to lose loved ones in the month of December and January, for centuries going back. So odd. Makes me a little superstitious). As for your hens, they’re gorgeous. And we never buy supermarket eggs. We go to a farm up the hill who keep chooks (open air; no cages; cooped at night because of foxes and wild mink). We bring our empty carton; they fill it up. 😁

    Liked by 2 people

    • That could be, no joke. The only reason the farm let them go was because they were at the end of their economic life. It’s all money. If we hadn’t taken them they would be a ready meal by now.


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