When Danny became Dan

And so it came to pass…a wise granddaughter was proven correct.

It was the unmasking, the day that Danny became Dan! Yes, the white chicken was indeed a cockerel.

Danny and Kylie had still not been sleeping with the others. 

They were being slightly more tolerated but still chased away from food, most felt sorry for them.  Mr Ideasman rumbled on about Danny chucking seed around.

‘That’s a cockerel, look he’s showing off,’ he said.

‘I’ve seen the others do that too’ said Ms Mova, ‘she’s not a rooster, I’m sure.’

Fast forward a few weeks when Ms Earth Mother and her silver children were mingling with the chickens when one who shall remain nameless rose onto tiptoes, flapped wings and crowed.

Well, that was it. A fine specimen but not for our chicken yard. Ms Mova arranged a capture and he was taken off to the chicken man at the local markets to breed happily ever after or breed happily in the ever after.

And so to our wonderful Open Day.  Ms Mova and Ms Tagalong are still congratulating themselves and reeling from the fabulous rallying around by our wonderful gardening community to provide such an entertaining and enjoyable day.

But that’s another story! 

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Danny and Kylie - the truth

‘Well I think that one’s a crow and that one’s a cockerel!’ Ms Mova’s granddaughter was adamant. And Ms Mova thought she had brought in two young hens! The granddaughter was gracious enough to say she would come back and give another assessment if needed.

Danny and Kylie, for so they are named, arrived on Saturday. Danny fell unceremoniously from the bottom of a broken cardboard box, not quite the planned entry. Slightly dazed, Ms Tagalong was able to pick her up and pop her with Kylie in the separate pen.

This morning they thought they were ready for the big stage and were out there trying to strut their stuff with the other ladies. They didn’t even belong in the chorus line, booed and hissed off stage they cowered in the corners behind the curtains until they were rightfully returned to the nursery pen!

Maybe in a week or so they will be ready for a short number with the others and then whisked offstage quickly until the next show. It might take a while for the main cast to accept them and certainly many moons until they can take centre stage and become the main layers in what has pretty much become an old chook’s home! Ms Tagalong should bite her tongue, though, four eggs were laid the other day. The warmth and Spring weather encouraging all things reproductive.

It has also encouraged all people working as the garden is being prepared for the grand Open Day on Sunday, October 13^th. Ms Mova is making a list of all prospective volunteers so sign up by email or when you see her with a clipboard!

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Not a Facebook party!

Keeping warm!

It wasn't a real Facebook party. You know, one of those that when you announce it on Facebook it goes viral. We didn't need beefy, sunglassed security at the gate asking ,'Do you know these people?' or 'What's your relationship to Ms Mova?'

In fact it was a quiet affair of about 20 people. Wait, did Ms Tagalong say 'quiet?' Quiet it wasn't. The

The choirmaster up to his old tricks!

ukeleles were strumming, the people singing and what better song to begin with for the departing local choirmaster and his lovely voice companion but the old Abba classic,Thank you for the Music.

Miss Smiles had been round the day before rehearsing with Mr Ideasman.

'The chorus is great,' she said, 'but you don't want to know about the rest of the song.' She mentioned something about dumb blondes or words to that effect so Ms Tagalong had to agree the chorus would probably be best.

In fact it might have been better to have just kept to this song for when Ms Mova's brother lent his baritone? to his favourite song, Blue Moon, the audience laughed wildly.

The pizza oven was ablazing. The 44 gallon drum was ablazing too to keep all warm on this cold Autumn night. Red read out a poem she had penned for the occasion to oohs and aahs and tears in the eye. George ate a whole pizza base when no-one was looking. Not a gluttonous invitee but an attending labrador! 

Conversation never ceased between the old and the new, the remaining and the departing.

'I'm sure someone replaces our young chickens with old ones,' Ms Mova confided. A conspiracy theory ensued.

'Not a velvet underground, but a feathered one,' quipped Ms Tagalong.

'I think it's a cocktail one. Remember the cockerel with the chopped tail dropped over the fence last year? Just so we didn't notice he was an interloper. I think the crowing at four am was a bit of a giveaway!'

Our youngest gardener!

All giggled, laughed and drank champagne. Anyone would think we were glad to say goodbye to these dear friends and stalwart gardeners who have turned up through thick and thin. Even if the lovely companion couldn't remember whether she had come on her bicycle or not! We thank them again for all their support and wish them well in community gardens new down Melbourne way.

All the gardeners are sorry to lose you both but it was a great excuse for a garden party, just not a Facebook party!

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Community Garden Visit - Number One

This one wasn't even planned. Dropping off Miss Glamourpuss to her trendy inner city domicile now complete with authentic Chinese replica of French provincial bench, we got out of the car and she said, "Oh, there's Redfern Community Garden." And there it was. Off Young Street, off Cleveland Street. A little oasis in a disused corner of an alley behind the restaurant strip. Ms Tagalong was so excited that she had her trusty camera along and took a few photos of the beds. All raised, all in those modern aluminium surrounds.

"Are you a gardener?" Ms Tagalong eagerly asked a young man sitting rolling a cigarette with a bored white fluffy dog at his feet.

"No but I like to come and sit in here," he said. "There are so many of these unused spaces which should be gardens. I used to think they would all have their own little plot you know, allotments, but here everyone looks after everything. Last time I was here there was an old gentleman with a watering can and the time before I met a lady who was very worried about the curry plant!"

Ms Tagalong admired the productivity in such a small space, took some photos and said goodbye.


Next stop for this blog was another opportunity for a celebrity chicken or two. Stopping at Cafe Bella on the main street of Kangaroo Valley we plonked down for a cappucino after three days in the wilds of Bundeela(bogan country, don't you know)Ms Ideas(wo)man spied a grapevine clad arbour to the back of the cafe. Imagine her delight when she opened the french door to find an Isabrown clucking around. Friendly and expectant of food she was soon joined by a cockerel, breed unknown, with fluffy white feet and skittish behaviour.


"Don't touch me!" and in a panic he fell off the verandah trying to shrug off the embarassment with a loud cock-a-doodle-do! I fear I am fast becoming a chickenophile! Might even invite one to dinner.