This morning I have lugged tons of stones down to the pig pen, to create a platform free of deep mud. I know the pigs seem quite happy without it, but I guess I am bowing from pressure from a few locals who perhaps feel that wet mud may be a little cruel, if left untouched.Anyhow, as I was talking to one of the villagers who was walking her dog, the guinea fowl started their usual cries of warning, and down dropped the bird of prey again, this time quite blatantly towards the hen enclosure further up the field.
I saw the cockerels run forward and as I hurried the 100 yards or so, I could see it was not Bunny or indeed Mary the buzzard was after but one of the old and sick black rocks which had been left to free range.
I had treated the droopy old hen for a while, and for several weeks she had become quieter and more lethargic, a case of old age I guess, and yesterday's attack I suspect was a first attempt at ambushing her and not the smaller bantams as I had suspected
By the time I had scared the buzzard off, the black rock had been killed, probably more by shock and surprise than by tooth and claw, and was stone dead by the time that Maddie raced up for a sniff.Now I haven't got all upset about this, as it was only a matter of days for the old girl and at least the whole thing was a quick and speedy check out for an aged hen . Nor do I feel rather jinxed, given the recent guinea fowl disaster; it is,like life is sometimes, just the way of the world.







