The Flock of Velociraptors...

I'm not convinced these are any better, but will have to do. An iPhone is not great in taking action pix and my girls refuse to stay still.

Canasta, eyeing up a bug on her perch

Scrabble

Jenga

Canasta and Scrabble debugging my patio

Jenga and Scrabble scratching over the patio bed for me

Polly

I am trying not to adore them too much and failing. There is still time for them to show their true colours and grow into manly cocks. They are so sweet though. The little brown ones, Canasta and Scrabble seem more like road-runners than chickens in the way they are so sleek and dart around. 

I handle them in the afternoon and before they roost and they are becoming less and less panicked by me now. They have my measure now. 

Yesterday, when I tackled the last of the nettles in the woodpile, they came when called to scratch and peck under my feet. Rummy had gone a-galavanting and so we were all far more relaxed. I'd call to them and they'd drift on over to me. I didn't do an awful lot yesterday, only a couple of barrow-full of weeds, which I left in piles. I couldn't be arsed to get the barrow out again, once my eaves have been repaired (there's a man fixing them now) I'll haul them onto the bonfire. When I was done ,I went in and sat down I could still see them. I'd left the greenhouse door open to get some fresh air in there, and after awhile they all drifted in of their own accord. No need to chase them down waving a big stick. Awesome.

Supervising them, as Z pointed out, is a bit like a Joyce Grenfell sketch "George don't do that." 

Rummy is getting over the fact I'm so horrible to him and not letting him eat them. He still would though. I wouldn't trust him with them as far as I can throw a plastic pot, which I did have to end up doing when we were out en masse earlier in the week. I think it's now jealousy on his part. Being that I'm his human and he is not entirely happy that he has to share me with Boy or Dave; four chirping velociraptors that like to snuggle with me in the evenings are a bit much.

Dave thinks I'm nuts. But then, he's always thought so; really no change there. He remarked that I'd failed miserably as crazy cat lady, so trying for crazy chicken lady. In his true romantic fashion he declared that he would sort out the coop. So said, so done. He's also insisting that he be the one to put it together. Yes, he's seen me in flat pack action. I remain grateful. Which reminds me, he suggested I hang old CDs up in the greenhouse to amuse the girls. I've got some kicking around here somewhere....