Dumpling: As the re-homing day drew to a close I noticed a rather bald hen appeared to have taken root under a shelf in the barn; she seemed reluctant to eat any of the food or water on offer and crouched down in the straw trying to keep warm.  I wrapped her in my coat, popped her in a spare cat basket and took her home.

On a bright blue day in Guildford, six ex-bats tentatively sloped out of their travelling boxes and tottered into unfamiliar daylight. Five of them hesitated, somewhat  bemused by the experience, whilst the sixth immediately assumed poll position and thus she was named. Boadicea!

Pudding was obviously keen to start her new free range life as she demonstrated on the journey to her new home. It wasn’t long before Polly heard scrabbling inside the box on the backseat and was then amazed to see a bedraggled little hen scrambling first over the handbrake, on to the passenger seat and finally on to her lap where she remained for the rest of the journey!

Myrtle: At first I thought it was just co-incidence that every time I looked into the hen house Myrtle was comfortably ensconced in a nesting box but by my fifth or sixth it dawned that she was doing more than just laying the occasional egg and that in fact Myrtle was expecting the chirp of tiny chicks.