Because a day without chickens...

...is like a day without sunshine! (And no, Willie, Chef Nick and HWB, I don't mean a day without EATING chickens! GEEZ!)

Yesterday I thought I'd start cleaning up the flower beds. The chickens thought they'd help...

That can't be good for the perennials!

"Let me help you with that earthworm!"

Uh, girls, I don't think the flowers like that.

Hello? Girls? Hellloooooo?

Sophie eagerly and patiently awaits a fresh chicken poo snack.

We're like the government... we're here to help!

Avian rototillers!

My name is Buffy and I am FIERCE! Plus I like to rip up your garden!

Meanwhile, somebody went off and got covered in mud (no, not Gordon!) and needed a hose-down before going inside.

Henrietta

Yesterday I saw Henrietta tearing around the yard with something large in her beak, with another chicken in hot, jealous pursuit. I finally managed to get a look at what she had and it wasn't pretty. It bore a suspicious to resemblance to a flayed frog or toad, well-shredded by a certain beak but with limbs intact, flailing in the wind. I think it is a bit early for the amphibians to be out, so I'm wondering if Henrietta excavated the poor soul from its winter resting place below the surface of the soil. Regardless, that frog is no more!

Henrietta says, "Mmmmm, protein!"