Our new coq, Elvis.

Every day these past two weeks I have been writing a list of things to achieve as we are busy and time is of the essence. Mike hates lists with a passion but at the end of the day we both get a sense of satisfaction when we  have ticked a few lines off and for reasons of motivation I also write down all the spontaneous jobs that arise and then strike them off straight away, it makes me feel good and frankly that is the most fundamental requirement of the procedure

This morning, clip the hens wings, was number one on the list and we went out into  the heneria trying to capture the hens one by one in order to perform the operation of snipping their primary set of flying feathers. I can’t describe the sit com that was evolving with hens avoiding capture and Mike and I running around their enclosure trying to look professional  and failing miserably. The bell at the gate rang and we both muttered something about meddling neighbours and after the ring became a bit more determined I just had to abandon Mike now with a net on a stick in hand trying to capture the hen we call Mummy.  At the gate, my neighbour David, looked a little worried with my welcome of deep sigh and the French equivalent of “WHAT” . He realised he had caught us at a bad time but just wanted to know if we had room for a young rooster in our Heneria as one of his had just fought a battle for supremacy and lost. I stopped in my tracks and blindly asked how he was at putting an old rooster out of his misery as my poor old fella had really taken a turn for the worst last night and was now confined to a box as he was unable to hold himself upright. David came in with a box in hand and deposited in front of the Heneria, took one look at my poor boy,  broke his neck, put him out of his misery and then release the most fabulous little white rooster with an adorable song and I found myself grieving  the passing of my fabby boy and falling hopelessly in love with this new little gift 

After all this excitement we sat down to coffee and I swapped the new Coq for 6 melon plants, a cup of coffee and an arrangement for both David and Naomi to come for aperitifs tomorrow.

The rest of the day was full of successes, nice wet ground after a night of thunderstorms and the wild flower garden sprouting seedlings in front of our very eyes.  Mike got his tractor and gang mower working and off the drive, I got the hundreds of seedling flowers finally planted and a sweet little cocka doodle doodling going on in the background throughout the day. It has rained off and on  and I can’t tell you how much we need it, I would happily sit in and do nothing for a day of rain.

So there he is, young and beautiful, accepted immediately by our troop of tartlets who have decided “the King is dead long live the King” and for that reason alone I have decided to name our new coq, Elvis.