We await her verdict (the posh way is to boil them and eat with celery salt – who knew?).

We have moved all the remaining birds into the polytunnel run (don’t worry there is plenty of outside space with trees and light and shade) and the goslings are there too. There is a goose house in the run and geese and chickens have cohabited there successfully in previous years.

Click below

In the paddock run (near to the house) the hens seem unaware of the mayhem that took place further down the garden last night. The remaining four ducks have had their wings clipped and will stay close to the kitchen and the sitting Silkie hen is securely locked into a hen house where she remains on five duck eggs.

A fox has killed several hens and cockerels and terrorised all the poultry. We will count the cost in the morning and rearrange the living arrangements.

Several hens and baby duck are missing but all three goslings are safe.

Lock up your stock and buy me a gun for my birthday!

So says mum. Pity we don’t grow them at The Gables and I don’t like them.

The largest gosling has now been separated from the Bantie hen that she thinks is her mother. Mother hen has returned to her flock and says, “About time too!”. The two other goslings and their surrogate mums have been moved to the Bantie run – so there are now three goslings, one Bantie cockerel, one black Bantie (on her last legs and in her twilight years) and the two surrogate Bantie mums. Keep up please! Click below

All looks peaceful and the goslings can graze on spring grass.

The Bantie chick and her mum were also separated today as that mum kept flying over the fence in an attempt to rejoin her own flock. The chick is with the quails and Orpington and Araucana chicks in the hay barn.

As we set off some village dog walkers were returning from their daily constitutional.

In one of the fields we got close to a red admiral sunning itself

The vegetation obscured the footpaths and we watched our steps carefully

Grandpa makes pizza and Kate and Phil join us for lunch

Then it’s a ride on the tractor

Ice creams for everyone

And soon there will be strawberry picking.

As I started to open the door of the polytunnel I heard a frantic flapping and flying and crashing into the sides of the structure. I peeked through thinking that one of the hens had not been shut into their hen house last night. It wasn’t a hen.

It was a delicate grey, collared dove who had wandered into the tunnel but had forgotten the way out.

I opened the door and stood back and out she flew. Then I opened up the hen houses and spread corn in the yard and the hens came out to peck, unaware of their nighttime visitor.