It’s early summer and although I’m a menopausal bantam, or maybe because my hormones are all over the place, I’ve been feeling rather broody lately. Wouldn’t it be lovely to hatch out just one more clutch of chicks before I smooth down my feathers for retirement?
I don’t think it’s my birthday.
She stuffed me into the cat box.
That was certainly unexpected and no way to celebrate... if it even is my birthday.
I decided to go and sulk in the corner.
There was a lovely pile of eggs all for me.
But anyway, I’ve got twenty-one blissful days for the news to sink in.
I wish she’d give me some privacy. I’m absolutely fine, the last thing I need is a birth partner. She’d be much more use going to buy some chick crumbs.
Sorry too busy now to write any more entries.