COUNTRY DIARY: the chicken or the egg?

After her annual A&P show argument, Wendyl brings home a new brood of hens, but finds they’re not too happy with the lay of the land.

Even if I didn’t live in the country I’d still visit the

Kaikohe A&P show because it encapsulates everything I love about rural living.

You’re surrounded by cattle, sheep, horses and sheepdogs and every animal is there for a reason –whether it’s jumping fences (horses), racing with kids on their backs (sheep) or just standing around looking beautiful for the judges (cattle). But my favourite place is the long shed, where they keep the poultry for judging and, most importantly, puppies, chickens, ducks, geese, turkeys and rabbits for sale.

And it is in this long shed that my husband and I always have the “A&P” argument. Every year, without fail.

It starts with me picking up and cuddling every single animal for sale, cooing and basically adopting it right there on the spot.

“They’ll be no trouble,” I said this year about five gorgeous ducklings. “None at all, and think of the eggs.” “No,” said Paul.

“I’ve always wanted a baby lamb,” I said this year. “It can keep the grass down in the paddock!” “NO,” said Paul. “I’ve heard three dogs are better than two,” I said this year, cradling a tiny puppy and thinking how Flo and Rosie would love an addition to their dog crew.

“I’m not even going to answer that,” said Paul.

Each year this goes on as I make my way around the shed, eyes eagerly tuned for any animals for sale until, in the heat and the dust of the day, Paul either gives in or walks away to get a whitebait fritter.

This year he gave in, and we are now the proud owners of five Barred Plymouth Rock hens. We did actually need more chickens because the last flock, which I wrote about in this column – the ones named after the Mitford sisters – went to stay at our friends’ place. I had to return to Auckland for work and couldn’t keep an eye on them so the friends kindly offered to care for them, then promptly fell in love with them and I didn’t have the heart to claim them back.

But now that my parents are living with us in the Hokianga, I have full-time, on-site chicken carers when I’m in the city.

I was so delighted with my new charges that I rushed around the prizewinning cakes and flowers, scoffed a bacon and egg roll, bought far too many jars of mustard pickles, then hightailed it home with them.

It was then I realised that these were chickens like no others I had ever had. When I put them into their palatial hen house complete with spacious run full of lovely grass and tidbits, they didn’t know what to do. They just huddled together and blinked cautiously at the sunlight.

These hens were 18 months old and had come from an egg-producing fowl house – in other words, a big shed full of poultry. If I hadn’t bought them, they would have been put down because they are past their prime egg-laying capacity. Like other rescue hens, they had never stepped on grass, seen sunlight, dug and scratched in the soil or slept high up on a perch.

They spent the first week slowly exploring their house, huddling together at night to sleep on top of each other and, most distressingly, not laying any eggs. Chickens are easily shocked and it seems the shock of being outside and having some free range was too much for them.

As I write this, we’ve had them for two weeks and still nothing. But that doesn’t matter. After the life they’ve had, shut up in a big shed with hundreds of other chickens, we can wait until they’re ready to start laying.

Meanwhile, my mother slowly makes her way up the path every day to sit and chat with them, and I’m working out their individual characters and thinking of names. So far I’ve got Sharon, who is a bit of a busybody.

And how is it going with my parents living with me up north?

Couldn’t be better. My parents have settled in well at the cottage at the end of our house, and I feel like I’m getting to know them all over again after leaving home in my late teens. I’d forgotten how much they love to talk and what interesting things they talk about.

“It seems the shock of being outside and having some free range was too much for them.”