Plum Pie Number Two and Jailtime

First off I want to say that my kitchen cupboard cleaning job

took its toll on me. Ten hours total time was spent bending down and picking up and washing thoroughly and putting away in a newly scrubbed environment. Some things didn’t make it back. My spouse is thrilled about that. So am I actually. But my back didn’t make it through the entire process without damage. So by the time I made the second plum pie with lattice crust mind you, I could barely straighten up. Hobbling to a seat nearby after hours on my feet, I was eventually waited on to some degree, since it hurts the most to get up and down from this chair. Therefore I will immediately skip to the next subject of utmost importance. 

The worker bees outside were also busy. For weeks we’ve needed an enclosure for the new mother hen and what were her six little chicks. But one disappeared a few days ago, which might have been eaten by a hedgehog, since they love little chicks for dinner. But that triggered a newfound urgency in the husband and son team to get off their hindquarters and stop drinking their Duvel beer while pondering how they’d repair the huge mobile henhouse and run that our neighbor dropped off a week ago. So hours were spent pulling off the old rotten bits and putting on the newly purchased chicken wire to prevent any type of predator from breaking into the newly refurbished quarters. The problem then became catching them. John had tried in vain to pick up the mother but she wouldn’t have a bar of it. His surprise attack backfired and then of course little squeakers ran in every direction except towards any of us. We stood there holding large towels to throw over them if they came near. Like dummies we stood there holding these large towels. That was plan A when John was going to catch the mother and put her in the big chook house (to avoid having to fix our friend’s hen house and run) and then Jake and I were to pick up the little babies and put them in deep containers while they cursed at us. But since the mother wasn’t caught we also gave up on the babies getting snatched. We didn’t want to be attacked by the normally calm hen as we scooped up her offspring and took them far away, to the other side of our garden. So we left empty handed and forlorn. With each passing night I wondered if any more babies would disappear. That has happened more times that I care to remember if we let our hens rear their young in the wilds of our garden. Usually the culprits are ferrets that number in the millions here in New Zealand. Some brainy idiot decided to bring a few over here as pets. That’s after they brought the rabbits. What were they thinking? 

Anyway, back to the chicken chronicle. After the residence was restored to a safe haven, some food was thrown inside to entice certain visitors to enter the hallowed enclosure. For three more days that plan B didn’t work out although we got some visitors that ate and ran. But today the mother was in there with a few chicks and another baby was caught in a trap (sounds like a song) John had set, to catch the errant hedgehog. The last baby was on the run but in no time at all Jake caught the sole chick and so tonight I can rest easy knowing that they will all be there in the morning tomorrow and every morning thereafter as long as they need to be. Then in about six to eight weeks we will let them out when they are big enough to roam free again and can sleep in the trees with the rest of the squawkers. Although their days will be rather boring at best, they still have the ground at their feet and can dig in the grass for bugs to eat. And we’ll put some other things inside that they can climb on and hide in. They will be free range in due course and now have excellent prospects for long chicken lives. 

Personally, I’d rather have pie a la mode with a dollop of vanilla ice cream, than think about this any longer, which has just been served to me in this comfy chair. Problem solved. Chickens captured. The Queen bee is happy, though lame. I could get used to this.