Howling at the Moon and pecking order changes within the dog pack

The Belles of St Trinians all seem to be doing fine. They were let out yesterday morning and immediately formed themselves into a tight knit little group on the field borders.
I brought them their own feeder (with wormer and vitamins) and left them fresh water ( with the magic  ingredient of apple cider vinegar) and hoped that they would  settled in without a problem.
Rescue hens like these scrappy birds can be bullied terribly by an existing flock, so the quicker they find their feet, the better, and apart from a few minor skirmishes with the bad tempered Angostura....the ten new girls coped well with their first day

Mind you, I wounder what they made of my , somewhat over-the-top reaction when I was pushed to the absolute limit by the marauding starling horde later in the afternoon.
Hundreds of the little buggers had been sitting patiently in the Churchyard elms for most of the day as I pottered back and forth getting the field ready for the new onslaught of bad weather which is due on Saturday and when I turned my back  the feeders went literally black with starling bodies stuffing their fat little faces with expensive layers pellets!
Seven times I scared the starlings away and seven times they retreated to the elms briefly before swooping down again when I had turned my back. 
I moved the feeder.....still they returned
I Placed the solar radio on top of the feeder......still they returned
I stationed George to watch over the feed.......STILL they returned!!!  
By the umpteenth "raid" I completely lost my cool and as the Wiley bastards sat in the trees laughing at me, I started to hurl the whole collection of tin feeding bowls up into the Elms whilst yelling "FUCK OFF ( first bowl) YOU NASTY ( next bowl!)  SHITTY ( next bowl) LITTLE (enamel bowl!) GOB SHITE(?)-final bowl)..........  BIRDS!!!!!" (Ran out of bowls so I lobbed a plastic rake!!!)
If you are reading this ( and I am talking about the two middle aged ladies tending a grave in the new Graveyard)
I apologise for my foul mouthed tirade and behaviour!!!

Today the weather has closed in and the freezing rain and bluster winds have returned....I am trying to get the cottage in order as Nuala ( my best friend from London) is due for a visit tomorrow- and I have to try to get rid of the cottage's doggy smells before she arrives.
Each dog needs a bath and I am just pondering just how I will carry a 24 kilo bulldog upstairs!

Meg before the scrap

  
To add to the day's events, Meg and Constance have just decided to thrash out their female pecking order positions within the household.
The result was inevitable.....slight neurotic Welsh terrier versus  quietly assertive mountain of female bulldog.....
All I heard was a mass of squealing and a few frantic barks, a couple of growls and then complete silence.
I walked into the kitchen to see  a bored looking Constance standing over Meg who had been rolled onto her back.
The bulldog had used her considerable weight to pin Meg to the floor and was not going ANYWHERE!
I left them to it. and made a cup of coffee.
Neither bitch moved.
I stepped over them and sat at the kitchen table to watch what was going on.
Neither bitch moved.
George ambled over to have a sniff at both of them, and still neither bitch moved.
Then Meg tried to kick Constance off and without any fuss Constance flattened her to the floor even more.
I left them to it.......
Ten minutes later, they still remained locked together. So I grabbed the leads and called all the  dogs for their walk.
Out trotted William and George followed by a rather relieved Meg and a quietly victorious Constance......
The bulldog is now alpha female and second in command to the benign William!