Hens
Ever since the bankers broke Ireland, people are talking about self sufficiency. Now that we can no longer afford to shop, we must resort to growing our own. Allotments are all the rage. Apartment dwellers are growing potatoes in bags on their balconies. And the truly well off are enjoying organic free range eggs courtesy of their home raised chickens.
Will Izzy follow suit? Will I heck, my dears. I most certainly will not. For a start, I’m scared of birds and hens to me are just bigger, scarier birds than your common or garden variety.
When I was a child, my grandmother kept pullets – noisy creatures that seemed menacing and rather dirty to me. Nothing filled me with dread more than being sent to the hen house for eggs. Nothing, except perhaps feeding the hens, which involved putting your hands into a basin of damp, squidgy meal while being pursued by a flock of cackling. wing flapping, peckers. Ugh.
No matter how bad things get, I’ll be purchasing my eggs in the supermarket and these chickens won’t be coming home to roost anywhere near me.
