A New Home



After quite some time living at this address, the blog has a new home, it's HERE.

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Henry

Dear Henry

You are magnificent. With your fine squawk, splendid plummage and confident swagger, you cut an undeniably impressive figure. You rule the roost. I take my rather knackered straw sun hat off to you Henry.



You have, like many before you, become rather too enchanted with your own magnificence. Your manly demeanour started to give way to random aggression, your evocative calling of the dawn becoming day-long wailing, your occasional not-entirely-successful attempts at the amorous arts replaced by digging those sharp bits into the ladies.

You started scaring my 6 year old with unpredictable charges, then my wife. Charges became rabid attacks, spurs first, throwing yourself into the fence repeatedly in an attempt to get through. This week you even started trying to catch me out, but you weren't paying attention to that cane I happened to have in my hand were you Henry. Hurts doesn't it.

Henry, you've become a pain in the arse.

I wonder what has turned you this way. Can it be the dawning of spring and the rising of the sap? Perhaps you're feeling a little more frisky than normal in this unseasonal sunshine Henry. You wouldn't be the only one.

But you know what Henry, when my daughter can't collect the eggs, my wife can't clean out the hen house and you're starting to hurt the egg-laying ladies, you can rely on things not staying like that for too long.

Henry, the living daylights were strangled out of you last night* while you were snoozy and I'm truly sorry. It was, however, the best of a short series of options. Tonight you rest in a friend's fridge awaiting red wine, perennial herbs and Gas Mark 4.




I didn't strangle you Henry, the owner of the fridge did. I would have liked to have strangled you but I didn't. I would have liked to as if it was going to happen, it would have been right to have been me. I didn't for two reasons: by the time you went I disliked you Henry and that's not a good feeling to have when sending a bird off to its end, and I haven't done it before and a friend has and you were a big bugger Henry and I thought you might've taken more killing than a first-timer would be confident to do. As it turns out, it was quick and easy.

What I do promise Henry, is that I will learn how to do it well and when keeping some chickens for eating this summer I will do the do rather than pass that responsibility to someone else. I will bleed, eviscerate, hang, pluck and eat every part possible before the summer is through.

So bye bye Henry. It was fun before you turned into a total bastard.




* Mum, if you're reading this, next time you see your grand-daughter, Henry has been 'gone to a friend's', ok.

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