The chickens have gone from timid to cocky in a four week period. First, they were very shy and scared. Now they’re verging on aggressive, demanding, inquisitive and over-confident!
Since we’ve let them be free-range, they have the run of the place. The first thing I’d noticed were the missing grapes, which I’d initially blamed on Molly, even though she’s not a grape-eater, until realising they were all perfect ‘chicken height’ grapes that were missing. Now, they go absolutely mental for grapes. Weird.
They spend a lot of time shadowing you, and then in some bizarre ‘Trigger Happy TV’ style, when you turn around, they pretend they’re not shadowing you at all and all stand looking in different directions, before you move on. A bit like Grandmother’s Footsteps. Each time, they get closer and closer. You turn around, they pretend they’ve not moved at all. You keep walking. They hurry after you.
I’m getting to the last fruits on the trees, before walnut season starts. Then we’ll have the remaining carrots and spring onions before winter. It might be the end of September, but it’s definitely winding-down season. I’d tried to procure some logs, going into the Mairie to enquire about a local seller. No, she says. You pick your logs up… you know… around… waving her hand vaguely in the direction of the forest behind the village. Sure enough, when we went down the riverbed, lots of the old dead wood had already been chopped into and sawn up. I’ve seen three or four cars, now, parked at the riverbed looking for wood. It’s still warm, though. I’ve had a real sweat on clearing weeds for the arrival of Papa.
La Grand-mama has managed to spend the night safely on her own, although she had locked her milk in one house and wasn’t able to get back in. She’s upset she can’t get Sky Sports, but glad to be in the sun.