Hens

 A couple of weeks ago our neighbours moved. They had lived there for over 30 years and been our neighbours for over 20. Our hens had been a shared enterprise. The original hens  - rescued battery - had lived in their garden but, with expansion in mind, we had jointly built a much larger enclosure in our, larger, garden and, from that point, had shared the expense and the produce of a series of flocks.
The current 8 - one from an earlier adoption and 7 bought at point of lay last year are laying between 3 and 6 eggs a day - the usual number being 4 or 5. Up until a couple of weeks ago we had been sharing these eggs with the neighbours but now we have them all to ourselves - a surfeit of eggs. Our preferred option is to enlist our neighbours into hen sharers but in the meantime we can call upon the old neighbours, who have only moved 300 yards away, to help out when necessary and it is not far to take them some of the produce.
This year the hens have had little freedom due to the increase in number and boldness of the local urban foxes. Foxes are spied in the garden most mornings and neighbours report them on their lawns or sunning themselves on shed roofs. They are not deterred by human presence and saunter around the garden looking healthy and brave. They are fine creatures but, having come across one with a dead chicken last year and remembering the aftermath of the wholesale slaughter of our whole flock a couple of years ago, I am not keen on their presence in the garden. The hens must stay in their run and cannot run free - I find that I am telling myself that I hope that they understand!