This evening’s plans lay in tatters as another storm rolled over our house. The thunder was rather spectacular, reverberating tones sustained for several seconds before dying away. Prior to leaving home, we made sure the cats were inside. Like fireworks, loud noises and our furballs are not compatible.
It was raining when we left but by the time we got onto the allotment, the heavens had opened. We dashed down to Leia’s coop to count the chicks. After this morning, I wasn’t going to rest easy until I knew all five were where they should be! Upon opening the door, I counted three chicks. My husband used a stick to try and get Leia to stand up which she did only very reluctantly and not without several sharp pecks at the stick. That got the count to four. By now, both of us were drenched, the water streaming off us. Still no fifth chick. My heart sank. Despite already being wet through, I didn’t particularly want to lie down on the wet ground and try to fish out an idiot Houdini chick from underneath the nest box. Just as I had made up my mind to it, my husband let out a triumphant shout. At the back corner, hidden almost out of view, was the fifth chick. Thank goodness!
Flushed with success we retreated to the main coop where we waited out the worst of the rain. The chicks were out and sitting on the food bins whilst the older girls were standing in the dry areas of the coop looking unimpressed with the thunder. As the rain eased off, we walked home relieved that we had done all we could to check the chicks were all accounted for.
Further storms are due tomorrow so I am not sure how much we will be able to do much apart from feeding the chickens. If it’s only showers, I will try to sort the greenhouse and patio area but it all depends on the ever fickle British weather!