Heat Seeking Chooks and The Big Mouse Massacre

Where have the weeks gone? Already I have nearly been here one month and very little blog writing done. I feel guilty doing creative things when so much mess is sitting around but I have unpacked as many boxes as I'm ever going to and am now trying to find interesting and unobtrusive places to hide the remainder. As my linen cupboard is twice the size as at the previous place I have managed to cram a myriad of bags containing different fleeces amongst the sheets and towels. The spare bed is nearly lifting off the floor with boxes of S.T.U.F.F.-Several Totally Useless Fluff Farms- jammed beneath to be left until the next move.

We are also three chickens up with Franz's "wife" Sarah and his two offspring arriving just over two weeks ago before their previous owners left New Zealand to live in Switzerland. Sarah is a pale grey fluffy bantam of as yet unknown breed with an identical son and a fluffy white daughter. We got off to a rocky start when the white pullet managed to squeeze out of a hole in the hen house the first morning here. I had to sit outside in the pouring rain for 45 minutes until she came close enough for me to catch. Then her sibling made a break for it at lunchtime so I just opened the house and left everyone to it. When I went to feed them in the late afternoon Sarah was sitting in a corner of the house with a baby under each wing so I didn't have to do a big round up.

Rounding up the chooks to put them to bed is not such a hassle as it was at the cottage. In fact half the time the fowls come looking for me for they're still able to roam about the homestead as there is no back fence. Recently I was surprised while talking on the phone in the kitchen when mother hen and her five nearly grown chicks appeared at the doorway before making a beeline for the bathroom where they made a couple of deposits. The rule with chickens as with most livestock is- never rush or frighten an animal if you don't want to have to clean up after them. I put on an insincere welcoming tone before encouraging them out the bathroom, along the hall and out onto the veranda. After that they followed me onto the lawn, around the house, along the backyard, through the long grass to the chook mansion where I hurriedly shut them in. However after mulling the experience for a while I realised that I may have a potential goldmine in my poultry. Perhaps they could replace the pukekos in the next energy conservation TV advertisement. After all they love working indoors.


My main problem since arriving has been the mice. After having the cupboards and drawers cleaned out for me on moving day I have watched in horror as many and varied black droppings have mysteriously appeared overnight. And what's worse is the culprit turned out to be a chocoholic and gnawed through a brand new packet of chocolate biscuits before guzzling three! One night as I turned off the kitchen light before going to bed I heard a wicked squeaky giggling from the wall where I assume the mice were having their chocolate biscuit supper while watching a Danger Mouse DVD. In disgust I left all the cupboards open during the night and miraculously a week ago Gypsy caught said mouse thief before demolishing it in the bathroom watched by Peaches (pictured napping in the kitchen window).

I thought this was the end of the matter but no. Glenys had put my opened boxes of cat biscuits in a wooden bin thinking that this would be mouse proof. Last Friday I put the cats' dishes on my knee and began to pour biscats into them only to have one surprised grey mouse fall out into my lap! I yelled which frightened Jerry (well he looked like a Jerry) who jumped onto the floor before running under Mishka. Mish being a sheepdog didn't know whether he should guard the mouse or try to round it up. The mouse realising its mistake made a dash underneath the fridge while three cats were casually looking in every direction but the one they should have.

I had a nervous night thinking about vermin wandering round the house. At 2am Gypsy woke me standing looking down behind the glory box. I shone a torch there but could only see two little signs Jerry had been there- literally. Next morning Demelza was sitting in the bathroom gazing vacantly at the corner of the room as she's prone to do before neatly hooking her paw under the floor and pulling out the mouse. Being a good girl when I yelled "Take him outside" she ran out to the veranda and swiftly dispatched him to the great mouse hole in the sky. This totally disproves my friend John's assertion that my cats are only useful as decoration.