Roosters rock the rafters

Well here we go with more chicken stories.
Cycling home from work last week by herself, Ms Tagalong cycled quickly past the garden fence and screeched to a halt outside Ms Mova's house. Knock, knock, Ms Mova what are those other chickens doing in there?
What chickens? she said from the depths of her comfy chair. We raced together into the garden and viewed the new imports. One extremely glossy blue black proud looking beast and a small multi-coloured cheeky one with feathery feet. Oh they are beautiful, I whispered, who could have brought them?

Ms Mova sighed and Ms Mova thinks she might have said something rude. Beautiful! They're bl**** cockerels!


Oh no. What now? Yes, now Ms Tagalong could see; strutting around the pen, fighting with the hens and each other, spurs on their legs and of course the frightful crowing noise gaining in volume.

There was actually no prevarication, no hesitation, we had to catch them and dispose of them, as magnificent as they were. Ms Tagalong wasn't putting her hand up for neck wringing though and Ms Mova felt as squeamish. Coq au vin anyone? The solution was so secret we really can't tell you but be sure no chickens/roosters were killed in the making of this solution. The hens were very happy to be a feminist enclave again.

More chicken news when Ms Chicken Whisperer brought back the two sickly ones. Teapenny and Lucy legless, as they are now called, somehow became unwanted when a wandering spouse returned home. Ms Tagalong has suspicions that the naughty girls messed up the house hoping that he would stay away, to no avail! Ms Chicken Whisperer once more becomes Ms Designer and has grand plans or is it grand designs for some mosaic in the garden? Watch out for an interesting workshop.