Keeping chooks is a trend, but “The first piece of reality you need to know about chickens is that they’re actually gross” according to an article in this weekend’s Press. It’s true. But it was too late to go back on my promise to look after my niece’s chooks while she looks for a flat which will allow her to keep them.
I’ve kept chickens before – lots of them – when I was renting a house on a farm. There was a huge chicken house with perches, nesting boxes and a run. There was plenty of room for them. Not so in the city.
There is poop all over my lawn and my attempts to keep the darn things out of the vege garden have been futile. My latest strategy is to turn the sprinkler on – I suspect this will work.
I popped them into their nesting box last night. This morning they were up at 5.30am looking for breakfast.
As rescued chickens, they’re not letting an opportunity go by. They’ve investigated all corners of the garden, scratched in the borders, perched on the garden seat, wandered across the deck – pooping – and gazed enviously through the windows at our nesting box. One of them laid an egg in the garden, but the others pounced on it, leaving an empty broken shell.
I’ve been trying to see them as sort of cute…but are they in fact sort of sinister?