I am forced to accept this, as I watch one perching arrogantly on the higher extended escape-proof bit of fence that we constructed. I carefully tip-toe in to talk it down, like the chicken whisperer.
I feel very foolish. ‘Can chickens fly?’ is one of those questions like ‘why are there seasons?’ and ‘how does electricity work?’. You sort of think you know the answer and that it is all simple, but once you try explaining it to people then you realise that you are getting a bit bogged down.
I am not too sure about the options. I really do not want to put a chicken wire roof on, as I suspect it will make what is at present quite a pleasant environment into something a bit guantanamobayey.
And then there is the issue of wing-clipping. I know all the books say that it is what you should do and it doesn’t hurt and it is just like having your toenails cut, but I have a small feeling that it is not like having your toenails cut at all, and more like having a leg removed under general anaesthetic. Essentially, shorter toenails would not change my life materially for better or worse, whereas I suspect that a reduction in leg quantity would.
Short Tony returns from his holidays today, and I have managed a whole week without something bad happening to any of them. None have got worms, I have not trodden on any of them, I have not rented any out to Max Mosley. And we still have a full complement, so even though they can escape in theory, they clearly choose not to.
‘I must do everything in my power to make it a happy environment for them,’ I thought this morning as I went out in my pants to let them out. I do not wish to be a benevolent gaoler; I wish them to stay of their own accord.
CHICKEN ENTHUSIASTS! Stock up with your chicken stuff here…
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