And here commences the probably long series of chicken-related misadventures...
A few days ago, in the late afternoon I noticed that our group of four girls was now a group of three. Where was Polly? I was immediately worried. There are foxes about, and although they haven't emerged in the day as yet, our free-ranging feathery cluck-nuggets are quite the temptation and a fox-attack is always in the back of my mind.
Rich was entirely unconcerned and decided that finishing painting a door was much more important than launching an immediate search party. But once he had finally put his brush down and relented to my worried naggings, we set out into the water garden with dread to look for a pile of feathers.
But as we wandered near the pond, I heard some very faint and concerned clucking noises. I looked everywhere, and couldn't locate them, until I climbed up on the decking that partially covers the pond. The clucking got much louder, down by my feet, and I peered down to see a glimpse of little white feathery bum through the slats of the decking!
Polly! A little beady eye then peeked at me through the slats and the clucking intensified. Ok, no problem, lets just tempt her out from under the decking. Except...all sides of the decking were boarded up, apart from the side over the pond! That daft bird must have somehow got under there via the water, poor peckie. Luckily, a few minutes with a spade and a handful of corn resulted in a somewhat-bedraggled Polly, complete with duck-weed hanging off her feathers, emerging from under the deck through the hole I had dug for her.
Luckily she appeared entirely unscathed, and after an indignant squawk and a vigourous feather-cleaning session she was back to her old self. I hope she has learned something from this misadventure and that there will be no more impromptu pond-dips for any of our peckies. But something tells me this won't be the last time their enquiring nature gets them into a pickle!
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