I’ve just returned from two days in the Pyrenees, and spring is putting on a party for me! everything is exploding the day after my return. The tender greens of the elm, chestnut, ash, and lime trees dance magically in the breeze. The blue and purple irises have opened near the grain shed. All the bushes planted over the last few years in the lawn seem to have doubled in size. The new bulbs are emerging from the ground, and the lily of the valley is early. The peony stems are enormous between the rosebushes and creeping rosemary. What a sight!

Could you keep them for a few days?

The little shed is ready. They’re arriving Friday evening. Dom brought everything they’ll need: the seeds, the watering trough… We hesitated for a long time: should we open the door during the day? Should we not open it? Should we worry about the fox? Should we keep them inside, they won’t die after all? And then finally, on Saturday morning, I open their door and get on with my day.

 Last month, Dom also had a visit from the fox in her henhouse. With the tiredness from the hospital and the late hour, she hadn’t closed her coop. Ouch! Ouch! The docile and well-behaved ones who came in got eaten. Roxy and Paola, who had chosen to sleep under the stars… escaped the fox.

Roxy is the red one. She’s the leader. The first morning, alert on the threshold of the shed, motionless, she sniffs the air, looks left and right several times, then sets off in pursuit of every insect that moves within her reach, followed by Paola, as if they’d never known grass before. It’s almost as if they’re flying, searching for all those tasty morsels.

 Paola is a big mama who reminds me of the statues I love so much by Jean Louis Toutain. She’s a dwarf hen, but she has so many fluffy feathers, even on her legs, that you could forget she’s tiny, her size is so deceptive. When she moves with her legs spread apart and her big bottom like a swaddled baby, it looks like her nappy is full and she’s very uncomfortable.

The first day, I keep an eye on these two. I have a slight apprehension that stays with me all day: will they come home tonight? If they disappear, I wouldn’t blame you, Dom had said.

 But they don’t really stray far between the shed, the drying line, and the entrance to the house. They’ll lay two eggs every day for you, Dom said when she left. Indeed, that evening, I find two eggs in the straw. At 7 p.m., I look for them, but they’ve gone home. Already? Mine don’t come home until 8:15 p.m., at sunset.

The next day, they venture further, down towards the sheep and the undergrowth. Ouch! And then no, they come and go all day as if they’ve been there forever, with surprising confidence. They even come and sit on the bench with me where I have my coffee in front of the house. A delightful little moment.

And in the evening, two eggs in the straw. The third day, I have more trouble locating them among the sheep. But in the evening, they’re perched when Geoff goes to close their door. The fourth day, I find them lower in the undergrowth, but they don’t seem to venture any further.

It rains all day, and they come and go to shelter from the rain in the shed. In the evening, I collect two eggs.

The rain continues relentlessly, so it’s a day of cleaning and tidying. Philippe came to finish installing the stairs in the blue room. He did a superb job with this secondhand oak staircase, and I’m truly grateful for the hours he spent and the meticulousness and attention to detail he applied. The work is progressing. Rob doesn’t have time to give us for installing the pond pump. We’ll have to make it temporary and wait until September, he said. It would be nice to be able to transfer the fish back into the large pond for the summer.

Roxy and Paola are hanging around here. With the rain, there are so many worms everywhere under the oaks that they don’t even stop in front of them anymore; they’re completely full. I haven’t been keeping an eye on them much today. But they respond to my voice and seem to be waiting for something, since they follow me when I pass by… Only one egg this evening.

The sun is coming back, my energy too, the donkeys went out, and the worms went in. The carrots and beets are sprouting from the ground, and I have to think about planting potatoes… the tomato plants under the barn are really strong. I’m coming out of 10 days of being helpless while coughing my lungs out and now there’s so much to do…

Day 6, I’m less worried about our boarders. I’m discovering that they like my seeds, the ones I give to my girls, and that they refuse the ones Domi gave me for them. They also like the spaghetti I give to mine every morning. They all love it. I started it as a winter supplement, and I’m still doing it, but I’ll have to stop one day… their obvious joy makes me give in.

A beautiful sunny day, so the door to the house stays open from morning ‘til evening, and a redstart finds nothing better to do than start its nest on the umbrella lying horizontally on the coat rack in the hall. It’s so pretty, but I have to close the house tonight. Sorry, little one…

Friday, day 7. They are now in front of the house, grooming themselves in the sun. I read that hens have between six and ten thousand feathers and, like all birds, needs to manage them well to optimize their flight. They’ve lost that function, but not the instinct to groom themselves. Paola has a lot of feathers on her feet and is constantly preening them. With wet grass, they’re dirty and dull.

We’ve counted five different orchids that have just opened around the house. Not all of them are intriguing, and there’s one whose stem I have no qualms about cutting with my lawnmower: It forms a greenish cone, leaf and flower, and it stinks. But it thrives here and it’s popping up everywhere.

We’re out all day, and the weather forecast predicts 40mm of rain. That is a lot. When we get home, Roxi and Paola look pathetic but alive! Being away with chickens outside is always such a risk… They’re so wet they look like nothing at all. I expected to find them sheltered somewhere, but no, they continue to wander everywhere, carefree and, above all, impervious to the rain, it seems. I find mine at home, dry…

Dom is coming tomorrow morning after her trip to Spain to pick up her girls. That’s good. They weren’t here long enough for the fox to spot them… Job done; I’m going to be able to sleep peacefully now…