05 Wednesday Jun 2019
Tags
Chickens, Claudy, cockerels, fate, girlfriends, Happiness, happy chickens, Life shows you the way, the right thing
You can read about Claudy’s adventure here
Here is Claudy, with his new girlfriend. The boy don’t take long!
I received a lovely message from the lady who had re-homed him to say that he is utterly charming and that he is a keeper.
Claude has found his forever home, and he deserves it.
Life really does show you the way.
Moisy
02 Sunday Jun 2019
Tags
Change, chapters closing, chicken keeping, Chickens, cockerels, Creole Pekin Bantams, Dogs, endings endings &beginnings, happy, LIfe, new beginnings, new lives, sad, Welsh Terriers, Welshies
This is Claudy our cockerel. It turns out he is a Creole Pekin Bantam, and what a handsome boy he is.
Sadly the last of our girlies died on Wednesday night, leaving Claude all alone, and he crowed and cried all Thursday and Friday. I was so worried for him, not many people want cockerels and I didn’t want someone to take him to kill and eat him (although it turns out there would be no meat on him anyway so that would just be cruel). So how could I get him a home?
I went onto a FB site called chicken keepers in France and explained the situation and a lovely lady told me exactly what he was and said how beautiful he was. Then the haters joined the party (well one silly cow anyway) but that did me a favour and the lovely lady came back to say she would have him.
So today we boxed him up and said goodbye, and took him to the ladies chicken farm, full of chickens, ducks and young geese who shout at you and any bush they take exception to!
It was as if Claude knew he was in a good place. He started to cluck in his box, and then chirrup and then he just wanted to get out. At the moment he is in quarantine, but a new lady will be joining him to keep him company.
The lovely lady who had him said she may not keep him, although she took a shine to him as soon as she saw him and said ‘oh you never know, I might start breeding Bantams!’ She promised to send me pictures if she does.
So that is the end of our chicken keeping days. Welshies and chickens don’t mix! Another chapter of the adventure closes, but a knew one has just opened.
Au revoir Claude have a wonderful life.
Moisy
30 Sunday Dec 2018
Tags
being grateful, Blessings, Chickens, counting your blessings, Dogs, Family, French Countryside, Happiness, kindness, LIfe, life shows the way, Love, Love of dogs, memories, positivity, Reflections, Simple things, Small things, Welsh Terriers, Welshies, Wiglet
This is Wiglet, my curly blessing; and I count her as a blessing for many reasons:
Wiglet came into our life three years ago, when she was two years old. She had been bought to show and breed; and she came from high ranking French hunting stock. But the problem was her tail would not behave; it was just too curly, like a piglet’s tail.
Due to this she would not win shows; so in the first year of her life she was operated on twice to straighten her tail! As you can see Wiglet is just a curl, from the top of her head to the tip of her tail, and that wilful little tail would not be straightened!
Wiglet didn’t help herself when she then killed one of her owners chickens, and she was kept in a pound with other bigger dogs who then attacked her (she has issues now around food, so it was at feeding time we believe). In the end she was attacked so badly that she had to have a new home and was shipped off to a chateau just outside Paris, with another male Welshie.
But the aristocratic who had Wiglet did not like her. We believe he wanted to hunt with her and she is afraid of gunshots; add to that the fact that she was now a vulnerable little Welsh Terrier who needed love and she ran away, in the middle of Paris!
So Wiglet was sent back to her previous owner, back to the other dogs who attacked her, and she had to be shut away from the dogs in a small room. This was now home number four for her, because she had been with so many people.
But serendipity stepped in, as she always does, and a friend of ours (the lady who bred Harley) suggested us to her owner, we knew Welshies, and we knew their naughty and extremely loving ways; poor Rich, when I heard of her plight I just called the owner and didn’t even ask him. ‘We can’t afford another dog!’ He said. Wiglet came to live with us two days later.
Do you think she is a daddy’s girl?
She is our blessing because she is so grateful to live with us. She loves her adopted brother Harley, and she is grateful for the love we give her, with her sweet vulnerable little face looking up at us each day.
She gives us so much love, and when she smiles her wonky little smile it makes my heart break for the suffering she had. When I bought her a new bed, her own bed that no other dog had had before her, she got in it and that was that, it was her place; and she lays beside me every night in that bed, snoring.
Every morning she wakes me with a tap of her paw and a smile, waiting for a head rub.
She was sent to us, as much as we were sent to her, and she is a blessing.
Let’s share this series, lets get people counting their small blessings, they help to put things in perspective you know!
Moisy
12 Monday Nov 2018
Tags
Autumn gardens, Autumn leaves, Changes, Chickens, Claudy the Cockerel, Hen house, sadness, Serial Killers, Typhoons, Welsh Terriers, Welshies, Wind
Only last week I posted this picture or our garden.
This weekend the hooley escalated to what looked like a typhoon, we literally felt as if we were enveloped by the storm, the rain and hail were so torrential that you could not see the field beyond our garden. Winter is letting us know that he is on the way!
All week our new roof has been fantastic, but this rain was exceptional and just found the couple of small flaws that we knew would be there, because such is the case with a new roof! Of course they were where the concrete seal had been added and are easily remedied; after not having a roof at all for three years we have learned not to worry about small things – we literally ‘don’t sweat the small stuff¬’
But the trees and the gardens took a battering and on Sunday morning we woke up to find the old heavy oak door (that had once been our front door) that we had propped against the tree of Tao ( to give the impression that you could walk through a maginal door and into another secret garden – I love a bit of folkelore and mysticism me!) had been blown over and the oak bench in front of her had literally been flipped upside down.
As you can see the trees have been undressed of their leaves and in just two days the door is virtually covered! As is the rest of the garden.
The serial killer known as ‘Wiglet’ was however in full form. On Friday she had a wonderful day with me, as I collected the twigs for kindling she protected me from anything that may be lurking in the branches that I was pulling out from the huge pile we have to deal with. Harley was with me too, laying at my feet, but she was snuffling backwards and forwards in the twigs (as far as her fat bum would take her) and behind them. She disappeared for a while and when I went down to load the logs up and into the wheelbarrow to bring in to the house I found that she had left me a present – a big fat dead rat! I told you had nothing to worry about!!
Sadly though this meant that she had got a taste for murder and after the wet weather on Friday night she set her sights back on poor Claudy the cockerel. Rich had to go and get her from the fence by the chicken coop on Friday night and on Saturday morning, whilst drinking my first cup of tea of the day in my jimby jambies, I heard a noise. I quickly got up and opened the door and could hear screaching and clucking – she had got back in with the chickens, by managing to move a post that was pliable in the soft wet ground!
Without further thought I ran up to the chicken coop – remembering what Rich had said about making a loud bang with something,because Wiglet does not like loud bangs, in fact they terrify her. Needs must I grabbed my prop from my washing line and, dreading what I was going to see, headed for the chicken coop gate. But a surprise awaited me – whilst she was giving Claudy the odd nip, she had not gone in for the kill and the other chicken was also alive (all but terrified!). I quickly banged on the corrugated iron of the shed and she ran to the corner of the coop giving Claudy time to squeeze himself between the new chicken house and the fence so she could not get him.
I shouted at her ‘arretez’ which means stop in French, and she answers to French commands better than English in times like these. To my surprise – after having a quick lunge at the other chicken – she sat and did as she was told. There was no killing frenzy she actually just stopped! Rich came up and got her out, because although she had got in through the tiny gap she had made she could not get her fat arse back out!
A decision had to be made: I love Claudy, he is a stunning cockerel and chats to you whenever you go up to the coop, but if we keep him his days are numbered, because she will kill him one day. It is a bit like a lion, it goes after the one wilderbeast no matter how many are there, and Wiglet has had a taste of Claudy!
So with heavy heart Rich and I contacted a friend who has just re-homed ten battery hens, he is an animal lover and he has agreed to re-home them both, giving them a safe haven from the serial killer. I will be sad to see them go, it is the end of an era. Butm we have to think of Claudy and the one remaining girly, and, as we know, all things change; and this season is the one to remind us of that like no other.
I know! Butter wouldn’t melt right?!
Moisy
23 Tuesday Oct 2018
Tags
Barn owls, Chicken Hilton, Chickens, Dogs, hunting dogs, Nature, Night time feasts, owls, pygmy owls, Rats, Rats and chickens, Rural living, Serial Killer, Tawny owls, Welsh Terriers, Welshies
They do say that you are never more than six feet away from a rat no matter where you are in the world. How accurate this is I don’t know, but I do know that it would have been naive of us not to think that rats may visit our garden, especially because we had chickens.
On the first night we moved into the house Harley was going mad at something in the garden. The house had not been lived in for three years, and the garden had been occupied by three goats (hence the name for the goat’s shed) and anything else that chose to live here! We only had Harley at that time, we moved here in August and Wiglet, aka the serial killer, did not come to live with us until the October. Had she been here then what Rich discovered would not have lived to see another day, but as it was only Harley the huge rat that Rich found when he went out to get Harley by torchlight, managed to get away. Although we did not see a sight of it after that, the following year Wiglet came bouncing down the garden so happy with a huge, dead rat in her mouth. “Thanks for that!” I said!
Over the years we did not see any more rats because our dogs are hunters and, especially when the serial killer moved in, the rats were deterred. But where there are chickens there are normally rats and after putting too many left overs in their enclosure in April we believe that a whole family moved in.
We thought that we might have a problem after the chickens appeared to have stopped laying, and it appears that rats will steal the eggs and attack the chickens. They knew that they were safe from Wiglet (aka serial killer) because she could not get in the enclosure, although at times she would go mad trying to get in there, and she would also spend hours staring at something hiding in the twigs from the trees we had cut down, with her little tail wagging as if to say “I am so pleased to see you, come and play little rat!” She has dug holes all over our garden trying to flush them out and we planned, after we moved the chickens of course, to let her into the old Chicken Hilton and have a field day.
Over the summer Rich had seen the rats, I never had because I normally have the dogs in tow, but he said that they were getting more and more blase, and would come out into the chicken enclosure in daylight. One day he counted seven going back into the Hilton tail to tail because (you guessed it!) Wiglet had come out to play. So we hatched our plan: we were going to put the chickens somewhere safe and let Wiglet have a day in the henhouse catching rats. For her it would be like a day at Disney!
I told you she is the most beautiful loving, vulnerable little dog but her mother and father were hunting stock and she is a born and bred hunter!
But, as is life’s way nature beat us to it…
As I lay in bed one night with Rich snoring beside me, I could hear the hooting of a Tawny owl (probably the one that loves to sit in our cherry tree and look at us.); I have explained in previous blogs that one of the beauties of living out here is the owls that you just see every day (you may want to visit my post: what is is about you and owls!) There are Tawny owls, Barn owls and the cute little Pygmy owls that come out in the day..
In addition I could also hear a lot of screeching! Husband will sleep through anything but I lay there knowing that the rats were getting their come-uppance! Our cats had also been very interested in the chicken enclosure and I imagined them sitting on the stumps of the trees with a glass of wine watching the entertainement!
Over the next few nights as we lay in bed we could hear Barn owls, and their babies and a lot of screeching, and squealing, coming from the garden and I knew that the rats had become too blasé, and the owls had spread the word and were now having a a feast.
Gradually we saw less and less of the rats, any food that the chickens had not eaten remained uneaten (although we have drastically reduced the scraps that they have.) Over the past few weeks we have seen no rats at all, although their warren of holes are still evident as Wiglet digs them up! One day Harley did spend an age staring into a hole wagging his tail in greeting, but it was a false greeting because that rat would not have lived to see another day.
So nature took over, the owls killed the rats, as they were meant to do, and I lay in bed listening to the life that goes on outside when you live in rural France.
I know that as the trees that we chopped down gradually get cut into logs, and I turn the twigs into kindling, the rats will have nowhere to hide, and if there are any about trust me Wiglet will have her day!
There is no going back to the Chicken Hilton for them because the dogs are now in there all the time. It may only be a matter of time before I am back in a scene from ‘Whatever happened to Baby Jane’ and Wiglet presents me with another dead rat. Good!
In addition Rich found a cache of hidden chicken eggs under the hay in the old suite of the Chicken Hilton that was once occupied by the chickens; the poor chicken was laying and was hiding them from the dreaded rats! The fact that they had not been eaten is also evidence that the rats have been scared off – straight into the jaws of Wiglet!
It’s all part of the adventure folks!
Moisy
21 Sunday Oct 2018
Tags
Chicken Hilton, Chicken houses, chicken keeping, Chickens, Dogs, Moving on, Naught Welshies, Rats, Rural living, Welsh Terrier, Welshies
As some of you know eighteen months ago we bought six chickens (the girlies) and Claude the Cockerel home to live with us. They needed re-homing and for six months they were all really happy. Sadly in the October one of the girlies died and in the spring we believed that we may have rats as the girls stopped laying eggs and some became eggbound, and despite our best efforts another three died. We were left with just two girlies and Claudy boy.
As some of you may know (See a murder in the hen house) one of the chickens was killed by the serial killer of all things small known as Wiglet…
I know! How can you not love her? But last month she murdered one of the last remaining girlies, and almost killed Claude, but the boy lived to see another day, so then we were down to two chickens.
As you can see the chickens had a massive enclosure that took up a large part of our garden and they also had half of the old goats shed as their home – it was huge, and poor hubby was trying to squash his many garden acoutriments into one half of the shed whilst two chickens chose where to sleep each night because they had so much room! It just didn’t make sense, and at times Claude and his girly just looked lost.
So this weekend Hubby set about making them their own retirement home – we thought that the remaining girly was too old to lay eggs but we were wrong (and that will be my next story). So, as you do, on a limited budget, you make use of what you have. Off Hubby went oo his barn and found out some old wood we had ripped out of our kitchen and an old bathroom cupboard we had in our bathroom (no surprises there!) which had legs on it and set about making the chickens a new pied a terre.
Firstly he had to make them safe from said serial killer so he shut the chickens in the Chicken Hilton whilst he built there new enclosure. But Wiglet the Serial Killer leave it? No would not leave them alone and kept digging to try and get into them! After numerous attempts by hubby to block the door: He locked it, put wire inside it, wire outside of it, put a piece of corrugated iron against it, followed by an old door, all whilst he was trying to get on, he gave up and he caught the serial killer, who is a little bugger, and locked her in the newly built enclosure; so he could get on and build the chickens new house.
It was a big job to take the old enclosure down as to stop said killer getting to the chickens when they first arrived we had put huge pine logs against the double fencing, and they had to be moved..
Along with the fact that the grass had grown through the fencing, effectively pinning the wire to the floor. (She still got through in the end though! Took her seventeen months but she found a weak spot!)
Hubby did good though and in the end the chickens downsized, as you tend to do when you get older, and moved into a pretty little beach style cottage, placed in the sunshine, with a little plank up into it (easy access for when you get older) and some lovely new hay.
It is fair to say that they are as happy as happy can be in their new home.
We did make a discovery though, the poor girl had not stopped laying, we found broken eggshells in the Chicken Hilton and five eggs that she had hidden under the straw – all an indication of rats!
And that is another story from our adventures of living in rural France!
Have a wonderful weekend folks – remember this is the sequel to the prequel so keep reading in to have hope that things can get better
– makingthisbetter.com
Thanks for all your support and please share my posts and comment when you can, I love the interaction.
Moisy
11 Thursday Oct 2018
Tags
adventures, autumn, Change, Chickens, Dogs, Friends, fun, Goodbyes, LIfe, Love of dogs, memories, Moving on, Poignant, poignant memories, sadness, Welsh Terriers, Welshies
It’s been awhile since I have blogged on here, we have been busy with the roof, and I have been even busier with my new blog. The response to it has been phenomenal, thank you all.
But as I have said the Moisfrenchadventure blog is my ‘home’ because it is my first blog and it is about the here and now; and our life together, now.
Sadly one of the changes has been that our two little Amigos, also known as the Princess and the Pea because they were so close, are now at each others throats, literally! We cannot even have them in the same room together on leads and blood has been drawn on a number of occasions; we are at the point that they cannot even go for a walk together.
I feel so sad about this, as I am writing this blog I am looking through the photos of the last year and them together and it is bringing tears to my eyes. Wiglet could do no wrong in Dylan’s eyes.
They played with mop monsters in the garden, Wiglet taught Dylan how to get the chicken’s tail through the fence and worried about her when she was riding with daddy on the mower.
They searched for rats and mice in the woodpile, and Wiglet taught Dylan how to dig her first hole. Wiglet was truly Dylan’s hero, they were inseparable.
But in the summer another dog was in the mix for a week, another Welshie, she attacked Wiglet first in our garden and Dylan got caught up in it and bit Wigs as well. They made it up, but the same dog then attacked Dylan in the rental property Karen was staying in and a week later the unrest began.
We hoped it would die down in the weeks that Dylan had been in England, but it hasn’t and in fact it has escalated.
I am so sad, it is the end of happy times, and I just hope against hope that as Dylan gets older they will be friends again.
But as I say everything changes, and we have to go with that, and autumn is blowing the changes in quickly now.
Goodbye Princess and the Pea, it was real fun while it lasted.
Moisy
06 Thursday Sep 2018
Tags
bangs, Chicken wire, Chickens, Claude, cockerels, Dogs, henhouse, hunters, hunting, murder, Tears, Welsh Terriers, Welshies
It finally happened! After nearly eighteen months, we were down to two chickens and Claude, my beautiful cockerel…..
Wiglet the Welshie got into the henhouse! After eighteen months of barking, digging, chewing at the fence, watching, and, occasionally getting hold of a chicken through the fence by it’s arse,she finally got her wish. Here’s the story, is life showing us the way?
We had no idea how old the girlies were when we got them, we just wanted to give them a good home. But over time four of the girlies have died, and the others had stopped laying.
We were in a dilemma, we have to demolish part of our old goat’s shed, and utilise the remaining half, so the chickens have to be evicted. But we decided we couldn’t give them away to someone who would ring their necks, especially that of my beautiful Claudy, as his days would be numbered for sure. But we were not sure what to do, build a smaller chicken run and house perhaps?
Over the past few days we have been clearing out our barn ( but that us another story) and were not in the garden. One of the remaining girls had been off colour and Wiglet, the huntress, knew it. It was the same poor chicken that she had tried to pull through the fence by her arse on a number of occasions, I suppose her days were numbered really. And today that day came; as we were in the barn Wiglet chewed through a weak piece of fence and was in with the chickens!
We heard the commotion and screaming and clucking but by the time Rich got there the chicken was dead, and Rich could see Claude being dragged into the henhouse. He thought quickly, Wiglet does not like loud bangs so he banged loudly on the henhouse wall with a lump of wood, and threw a rock at it, all the time we could hear Claude screaming, but as Rich took action Wiglet came running out.
Rich had told me not to go up there, and I was so sad for my beautiful Claudy, I did not want him to go into the pot, and now he was in Wiglet’s jaws and I cried.
I knew that I had to face it, and as I walked up to the chicken enclosure Rich was beside himself; the hen lay dead and Rich was convinced that Claude had been mortally wounded and that he would have to put him out of his misery. He went to get a bag for them whilst chasing Wiglet off, and I stood guard at the gate.
But when he entered the henhouse he found Claude hiding, and after checking him over, apart from the loss of his beautiful blue tail feathers he was okay!
So now a temporary fix is in place, with the chicken wire we had bought for the new enclosure, Wiglet has been scared off by a banger firework, and change of plan for the weekend: Rich will be building the new enclosure.
Let’s see how Claude fares, but we cannot be angry with Wiglet for long, she is only doing what nature intended.
It’s all go here…….
Moisy
25 Wednesday Jul 2018
Tags
adventures, Change, Chickens, Dogs, Friends, Happiness, hot summers, Love, Love of dogs, red wine, summer fun, vide grenier, Welsh Terrier
It seems like only yesterday that Karen and the pupster Dylly Dyls arrived in France to stay for the long hot summer. But it was six weeks ago this week! And, as Rich said to me only yesterday ” It’s all going too fast!”
It has flown by, and now Karen has more weeks behind her than she has in front if her where this adventure is concerned. But, as I have found, more often than not, one adventure does lead to another; and I know that this one will be no different.
It has been a jam packed six weeks…..
Starting with the house hunting, from the sad house at the beginning of our search, to the beautiful house in La Manche, a stunning house, but creepy area , and I am sure I could hear the banjo tune from the film ‘Deliverance’ being played in the background when we were there! Needless to say we didn’t buy that one! After visiting about fifteen houses, and sitting down with pen and paper to draw up lists of what needed to be done we learnt a lot about Karen really wanted, and it wasn’t a huge house with huge gardens. The search is on hold for now, but watch this space, I am sure a new adventure will come from it.
As in most of Europe the summer has been hot, and is getting hotter, the pool has been purchased, and lilos have been added. The dogs have been dunked, we have become browner by the day, even my husband’s asbestos legs have gone brown!
For those who have read the featured posts from Dylan’s Welshie world the vet has become our new best friend! But that is not all! We have spent ours chasing her round the garden to get the numerous things she picks up out of her mouth! A resounding noise in our garden is ‘Dylan what have you got in your mouth?!’ One of those things has also been a chickens backside, she has been taught well by Wiglet the huntress!!
She loves a mop that puppy, so now we get her to come to us by using my old mop that was destined for the dechetterie (dump). Those dogs have been bought so many toys but the old mop head it appears is the best!
It’s been a summer of sport, and whilst I am not normally that into football it has been a good World cup this year, with our home country winning, even the puppies got involved.
we have had blood red moons, watched the fields of gold grow tall, sat in the garden into the long hot nights; ate late (as is the culture where we live), laid plans for the future, and decided on the spur of the moment to go on holiday in France to a place none of us have been. More tales to come but a new amigo will be joining us for that little adventure, dogs and all!
We have visited water falls, vide greniers all over the region (like yard sales and boot fairs, but more of a fete feel to them. One of my favourite things in French culture. We have shopped, drank vin rouge and ate lots of cheese! I know that there are many more adventures to come. I am just sad that it is going so fast.
So live each day folks, live each day……
Look out I will try to blog most days for the coming week, so much to tell you, and so much to say I have post whizzing round my head!
Moisy
15 Tuesday May 2018
Tags
calamity, chicken keeping, Chickens, counting your blessings, Dogs, dogs mouths, listen to your voice, panicking, sanctuary never giving up, understanding good and bad, warm breezes, Welsh Terriers, Welshies
“Where there is life there is death, and where there is death there is life”.
You have probably guessed that for me everything has a counter balance. Last nightI had a difficult night. Another of our girlies has taken a turn for the worse, and Wiglet, a hunter born and bred, knows it, she smells weakness. Don’t let this butter wouldn’t melt look fool you, she knew that chicken is ill and is weak and so she was driven into a frenzy trying to get in to their enclosure to kill it.
As dusk drew in I called her and gave her the command, and she ignored me, no surprises there! So I went over to get her and shushed her into the house; but as I did so I noticed her rubbing her face. On initial investigation all I could see was blood, and what looked like a split from her mouth to her nose. I panicked and ran round a kitchen looking for something to wash her face, then I got a grip and bathed her face with clean kitchen roll and could see that there was no split, but she could not close her mouth and her teeth appeared to be out of alignment. I checked all her teeth and her tongue and could see nothing and I thought ‘Oh my God she has broken her jaw. At this point she could close her mouth because I had manipulated her jaw but she was still rubbing her face and whining, and she kept going to the water bowl to drink and then walking away. It was clear she could not lap up the water.
I grabbed a syringe and squirted water into her mouth, but most came back out, whilst I frantically searched broken or dislocated jaws in dogs; simultaneously videoing her and sending it to my friend. That was it we were both searching the internet then for anything we could find whilst she ate a chew, the cat food, and chicken and rice! But still she could not drink.
The plan was to take her to the vet first thing, and I took the syringe to bed with me and her and Harley pup, in the hope that I could get some water down her throat. It was pitiful to see when she walked up to the water bowl and stuck her paw in, and walked away.
So I searched a different search and asked ‘why won’t my dog drink?’ Up came various reasons, one of which was that dogs have very deep roofs on their mouths and things can get stuck, thereby preventing the tongue from working as it should and making it impossible to drink. That was it, she sat so quietly whilst I ran my finger along the roof of her mouth and found this embedded in the roof of her mouth width ways right at the edge of her throat.
I promised her I would make it right and I did, I pulled that bastard right out, and Wiglet promptly drank half a bowl of water. We went the the vet today for safekeeping, and her mouth has already healed and the vet confirmed she is one tough little bugger.
So as I sit here this evening, in a slight breeze, and warm evening sunshine, and glass of wine in hand I count my blessings, for all that surrounds me and with the thought that if I had left it through the night she could have choked to death, thank God I listened to that voice in my head, that said ‘Check again.’
And I count my blessings for this
Sadly we think we will have to Re-home the chickens we have, it is driving our princess too mad, I don’t think the sick chicken will make it meaning there will be only two girlies and Claude, but we have to know that they will not go in the pot, we could not just send them away to be killed. I do think our chicken keeping days are numbered.
Where there is good there is bad and where there is bad there is good…
Bonne Soirée
Moisy
