Jo Bar­low is Batty about ex-bats

Your Chickens - - Chicken Crazy -

The girls of Rose­warne have had a Very Im­por­tant Mis­sion re­cently. Lay­ing eggs. And not just any eggs, these needed to be spe­cial eggs to go into a cake to cel­e­brate their grand­par­ents’ golden wed­ding an­niver­sary.

Some peo­ple may say that a chicken lay­ing an egg is noth­ing to write home about, but here, down in sunny Corn­wall, the girls of Rose­warne do not of­ten count egg-lay­ing among their many and var­ied tal­ents.

Luck­ily, the hu­mans of the house­hold do not nor­mally re­quire eggs, and any oc­ca­sional egg that has the rare for­tune to be laid is fed back to the girls. In fact, they now in­sist upon this. This was my fault (nat­u­rally). One day I was so shocked to dis­cover an egg in the coop that I dropped it onto the floor, where the girls, who were cir­cling me like rav­en­ous sharks, hoovered it up in sec­onds. Now just to prove how clever they are, ev­ery day when I go to the coop to check for eggs, I am joined by many brown feath­ery mis­siles who have dis­carded their lunchtime treats in favour of a po­ten­tial egg-fest. How can I re­sist?

Any­way, back to the cake. A friend was mak­ing this spe­cial bake and we wanted to use our girls’ eggs. We had all bought gifts for my par­ents but the girls felt they needed to con­trib­ute to the event, even though, as they pointed out on more than one oc­ca­sion, they were not in­vited.

So we all sat down and had a talk about the chances of ac­tu­ally pro­duc­ing six eggs in a fort­night. It was a tough call, and one that would de­mand a great deal of prac­tice and ef­fort from the girls. But, the Rose­warne ladies are noth­ing if not con­sci­en­tious and, true to

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