Old Mac Marja had a farm.....

It started with an Easter Brunch at our place for all embassy people that had not left for holidays... about half the people came, with spouses and kids, carrying decorated eggs for our big "Eitje-tik" (=slam-the-egg) contest... we took pictures of everyone carrying their egg (as shown above... need we say more?). Guests came bearing gifts such as chocolate eggs, easter bunnies, bottles of wine, a book called "A sahibs guide to the mali" and.... 6 chicks!
T's collegue of the agricultural department and her husband figuered that on a farm, one needs chickens...so here we were, with six fluffy yellow squeeking balls!
Unfortunately we were about to leave for the netherlands, so T had to devise a cage at the very last minute, and in India, good material is hard ro find, so the maze in the wire used was too big and actually allowed a chick's head to stick out...when we came back from our trip two of the six had been beheaded by passing cat. Bishnu reported that she only found one leg and a lot of feathers....poor things!

By then however, the Chicken-fever had gotten me, in the sense that I was looking forward to fresh eggs, chickens who would eat kitchen leftovers and free manure...I had anticipated starting with app 3 hens (4-5 seemed like the perfect size but that seemed to be out of reach with 6 chicks), but now the chances were that maybe only one of the survivers would be a female, so we needed more chicks!
In India, when one needs chicks one orders them. They are then beeing bred in a big machine and as soon as they hatch you can have them, so there we went, mr. Gill, Bishnu, Chunky, an illy box and I....off to get the new offspring. They sell per 10 (150 rupees for 10) and mr. Gill negotiated two extra for free, so there we were, with a dozen yellow, red and black fluffballs in an illy box. T's challenge is to make a new cage for them this weekend, my challenge is to keep them out of Friend's paws until they can defend themselves (Olly doesn't try to catch them, he just lies there and watches).

Obviously, all but one rooster will have to go eventually (so I hope the cute little black chick that I rescued out of the box -30 grs, I weighed it- is a hen). T thinks they will be ready just in time for Christmas... the grim but realistic downside of being a farmer. Until then however, I will happily put them in and out of their box, for the sheer pleasure of scooping up a little fluffball and brushing it against my face, just to feel how small and soft it is. Beats every stresstherapy I know!