For the last few weeks, our chickens have helped prepare the next section of ground we’ll convert into vegetable garden.
Chickens are very good at eating grass, so we put them to work stripping a decade’s worth of lawn and creating bare soil for us to work with (as a bonus, they’ve added some of their own unique fertilizer).
However as winter tightens its grip, we needed to move them from the patch of mud and poop to – literally – greener pastures. As my day job means I’m leaving the house in the dark and coming home in the dark, and the weekend rushed past without the move being done, we decided 6.30 this morning was an ideal time.
It was dark. It was muddy. It was slippery. It was almost inevitable I’d fall on my butt and get covered in poopy mud – and yes, that was almost exactly what happened. As a bonus, I was carrying a chicken at the time, who found herself suddenly launched into the sky as my legs shot away from under me.
I could almost hear the other chickens laugh at my inability to stay on my own feet, and congratulate themselves for creating such a marvellous mudslide.
But the night move should lead to happier chickens, better eggs, and the opportunity to start digging out that new section of garden – once the rain finally eases off.