The Burtons depart and a gift from the ghosts

Chris' family left for their long journey home this morning. It has been a nice and therapeutic visit. I use the word therapeutic personally here;  the commitments of animals and the long distances between North Wales and Broadstairs has meant that my own contact with the in laws has been somewhat limited and one sided and it has been lovely to rekindle a family relationship and to share the facets of our lives with each other after so long.

Last night Leo burst into the cottage with full wizard make up on. William was somewhat intrigued by the presence of such an ugly midget,(above) but the mask was soon removed so that the usual bout of dog hugging, stomach tickling and muzzle kissing could continue.
I have been fascinated with each dog's reaction to Leo. They are obviously not used to the maelstrom which is a child's behaviour, but each one has reacted rather benignly to the rough and tumble.
George spends most of the time being dragged into uncomfortable looking positions so that ears can be scratched and tummy's tickled and has enjoyed every minute of it. William has been tolerant and polite which is his way and Meg  has surprised me the most with a sudden and rather moving show of concern when after a rather tiring day Leo had a fit of the sobs.
Hearing the commotion, Meg raced over and to the astonishment of the room climbed up on Charlotte's knee to search the face of the distraught Leo.....I have never seen her do that before.

So with the family gone, the cottage has resorted back to it's quiet "normality"......I caught one of the ghost hens looking rather stooped and unwell. After a brief struggle I managed to give her the once over and caught sight of a small egg stuck firmly in her vent! Bless.... not built for egg laying the battery hen had defied the odds and had produced her first,somewhat undersized but perfectly formed prize!
I had an inkling to how to help. I gave the fat girl a gentle prod with my plastic rake and she started to waddle towards her hen house ( the plastic rake means bedtime in Ghost hen language)
When the ghost hens move they invariably increase their abdominal pressures ( because of their big weight) and when they walk they fart and expel poo with a fair and rather disgusting gusto....
Getting her to break into a hefty trot, she let out an almighty raspberry and the egg shot around a foot and a half out of her back end!!!
Half pleased with herself and just a little surprised, she turned to check out her first egg., lying in the grass and I managed to snap the above photo!
Never a dull moment