The Chicken House Blog

 It was snowing hard, the garden was filling up, the harsh edges being smoothed under a blanket  of the white stuff.  Then and now, as a so called adult I get a childish thrill  watching the snow cascade from out of the heavens, especially at night thought the light an unveiled window. (more…)

Our posh but very nice neighbours ( Mike & Pat) were happy to have our goats on their grass, and we were happy to oblige because it saved our grazing. Therefore there was nothing untoward when one morning Cindy said “I’ll put the kettle on if you put the goats out on Pats lawn. Gert’s (the mum) got her tether chain with her but Oscars ( Billy kid*) chain is still out with his tether spike, and as Oscar might not follow you out you’ll have to lead him by his collier.”

( * Yes, we did eat the Billy kids, but this one is another blog) (more…)

Having recently discovered the merits of dumper ownership I set my sights at getting me a dumper. My first hurdle was to get Cindy ‘on side’ she needed to understand that our limited budget had to stretch to getting me, (I mean us) our very own dumper. My ace in hole was that Cindy wanted a stable block which would need a concrete slab so ALL that HEAVY concrete would have to be hand barrowed from the road to the site ……. First hurdle cleared. (more…)

As we swapped shifts Ron shouted over the clattering roar of the printing press “do you want some hardcore Joe” ( my name’s Rob, but they called me Joe) “no thanks” I said “our video’s on the blink, we need a new one“. “No, not porn, you pillock*, builders rubble” (*old printers term for esteemed colleague). (more…)

“ Come and push down on the goats bum to see if she wants to mate “. That’s  a welcome home greeting  that only a select few would have had. (more…)

Gert the goats first morning at Forsham found our new girl a bit ‘stressy’ her unrelenting bleating bellowing visibly into the damp morning air, an indication she needed attention in the udder region. (more…)

As kids, the fields around us were ‘polka doted’ with cows, they were everywhere. Whenever you crossed a pasture a quick scan to see if the bull was about became standard ‘survival’ practise. As a dare we would grap hold of the electric fencing up set up to stop the cows bracking out onto lusher grass. (more…)

Having finished building my chicken run, I could now stand at the kitchen sink and survey my stockade. I am not admitting to it being ugly or an eyesore as was some peoples unsolicited opinions. (more…)

I have a theory based on no sociological theory whatsoever, other than my slightly distorted perspective on the world, and just about everything. (more…)

The rearing house we use throughout the entire rearing period is our Lenham 705.

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