HUDDLED in a corner of the hen hut, ten chickens we have recently rehomed, prepare to spend another night away from living in a community of thousands, as now they live alongside a few bad tempered chucks.

Last summer my brother in law Geoff brought us a clutch of eggs that were being sat by one of his bantams. These hatched, grew up, then matured into a gang of feisty little chickens that have just started to lay the green eggs I have already written about. But they are not prolific layers, so when the offer was made to reprieve the lucky ten from a future as chicken burgers, I swiftly accepted.

Unfortunately none of them has switched on their inner maternal yearnings just yet, which is why I have two incubators humming away full of duck and goose eggs. But they have received fair warning of the expectations I hold for them, and that the alternative does not bode well.

It has not been a stress free rehoming so far. For the new chickens that is. Our resident pensioners did not take kindly to these youngsters demanding space on the roosts, gobbling all the corn and generally cluttering the place up. Bear in mind it is still a few days until poultry lockdown is lifted, so life in the hen house and its makeshift run is a trifle cramped. The new chickens have been very reluctant to leave the hen hut confines. As fast as I tried to persuade them to try life in the great outdoors, well the hen run, by pushing them out of the hatch, they have shot back inside again. These hens have never known sunlight. Only electric lights. Never scratted in the soil. They have been well fed and cared for and their surroundings will be far more hygienic than the one they have just been introduced into. Life had been made as stress free as possible for them, as that way , they laid plenty of eggs.

But our newcomers had outlived their commercial usefulness. It was time to go. I understand completely . When we had a milking herd you could not keep a cow forever. A herd of bovine pensioners did not bring in a decent milk cheque.p. Hard commercial realities paid the bills, not sentiment. So these hens should count their blessings. And lay me plenty of eggs.Otherwise…