We have 3 left of 6, the other 3 just keeled over and died which is quite common apparently.
This is the third lot, the others were eaten by the foxes, which can be a problem and I would recommend that John digs the perimeter wire into the ground at least 12" as the foxes will burrow under it. Rats are also a fucking pita.

We kept chickens for years. Started with Rhode Island Reds but moved on to Bantams, didn’t lay as well but more suited to a small garden and more fun.

Erica hated to see them locked up so used to let them roam in the garden, worked well for over ten years in previous houses. When we moved to current house a fox took them after a few months here. We decided not to replace them as couldn’t stand to keep them shut up all the time.

Tip from a friend is to dig the wire in shallow and away from the fence for a foot or two so that foxes digging down meet mesh and stop.

Thread ressurection :grinning:

One of our girls threw a seven yesterday so went and got two more today.

An Olive Egger

And a Marigold.

You’ll never guess what they’ve been named :blush:


“Hitler” and “Cuntychops”?

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“stupid” and “boy”?


No cigar

Korma and Jalfrezi?

“Colonel” and “Sanders” ?

“Lunch” & “Dinner” ?

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My parents had a house with a bit of land in Norfolk, south of Norwich. They kept chickens and had a Cockerell too, which eventually meant they had even more chickens. I was up there for a week one summer and my uncle (mum’s brother, aging ted, covered in tats, three teeth and a perma rollie sticking out the side of his gob) came up one afternoon. He arrived in a truck, pulled into the drive and he leapt out, smelling of fags, tea and horse.

Pretty much the first thing he said to my dad,from under his leather pork pie hat was “Fuck you want that cock for?” My dad, about half my uncle’s size and into classical music and amateur dramatics said: “well I don’t really, but I’ve been at a bit of a loss as to what to do with him.” Well, I can take him of your hands no problem."

The chickens had gathered around us expecting food and Just as my old man was about to ask him how he was going to get the bird home, my uncle swooped down with blinding speed, came up with the cock by the legs in his right hand, snapped the bird’s neck with his left and with one more movement, slung the bird in the back of his truck. My dad just stood there open mouthed.

Over the sound of the bird shuddering it’s last against the metal bed of the truck my uncle asked: “is the kettle on? I’m fuckin’ parched!”



JB and Coke?

Nadine and Suella

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Hinge and Bracket

Sturm und Drang.

Hans und Franz (ve are here to pump you aaaahhp).