I can hope for a good crop of gooseberries, I suppose

Five hens under the gooseberry bush; one lonely white hen (more lonely since I went out and removed her (dead) friend and then came inside myself).

That, on top of the fish on Sunday, is not a good week chez the ravens. (And telling Looby Loo who's in a foul mood due to ballet exam nerves about Mrs Ginger isn't going to be fun, either. She's had one tantrum this week already, and she's not really the storming around type.)

And what to do? I can't see how we can find time to go out to Cambridge poultry to get replacement(s) until... well not this week or the weekend. I've not really got the time to supervise settling in.

Tweety

( (t)witterings )