Then there were seven

The new hens have arrived. After much mulling we decided to put them straight in with the others overnight, when they were roosting, and so, when they appeared in their cardboard boxes on Saturday night they were installed on the new perch and off we went, hoping all would be quiet, and forgoing any idea of a Sunday lie-in so we could be there at first light to hold chickeny claws if need be.

Sunday morning came, and we went up and opened the door. Our original three shot out as normal, and then realised there were more of them than there had been the previous night. The new bods slowly made their way outside, but ignored the old guard the moment they sighted grass. Having destroyed their original garden, grass is something they haven't seen in months.

Mary, boss Bantam, decided enough was enough, and weighed into Pandora, the Light Sussex. She found out in very short order that unlike Matilda, Pandora was not bothered by someone small and nasty, and not only that, but Scrabbles, the Wendlesham Blue and Boss Hen, came in pretty sharpish to break up the scrap. Mary retired, huffed, and then decided to Show Off. She flew up into the rafters, bellowing, and then stalked across the rafters to the far stable, still bellowing. The new hens were completely unmoved by this achievement, which frankly was a lot less exciting than all that grass. Mary then retired to the field, to be Alone.

Matilda and Rose decided that the new arrivals were best given a wide berth, and they went off to the field to follow their usual routine, and were eventually joined by Mary.

The new four made one brief foray into the field, but so far prefer to stay around the stables. Scrabbles (I keep wanting to call her Scabbers) does a fine job breaking up scraps. We kept popping up to check all was well, and there were a few flurries, but they get no further than a few squawks and flaps before Scrabbles comes along saying "Break it up, ladies, break it up," and they do. What an excellent hen. The other two, by the way, are hybrids: Eponine and Clarrie. Clarrie I'm pretty certain is a Rhode Island Red cross, but Eponine I haven't a clue about.

Here they all are: from the top, Eponine, Pandora, Clarrie and Scrabbles.

Mary's beak is still rather out of joint, but the original three enjoyed watching the new four being bamboozled by the bedtime routine. The originals had hopped up on their perch, but the new four were not quite sure what to do and retired into a corner. The bants and Matilda soon realised there was something worth watching, and turned round and settled down to watch.

Despite being put on the perch, the newbies got themselves off again, and it took a while before we arrived at a suitable lighting arrangement (light on in far stable but nowhere else) giving them enough light to get on the perch, but not so much that they thought it was still day. The other three certainly enjoyed the spectacle, anyway, and if hens can be such a thing as smug, I think they were. "You may be big," they were thinking, "but you ain't smart."