How can it possibly be half way through July? I’m sure it was January only last week. Sigh.  Things have been quiet at the Great Urban Ark. I mean that quite literally too since the lawn mower broke down.

Being winter this is not too much of a disaster – although I did notice there is one lush patch that the ducks like to hide in.  I kid you not.  When they lay down they disappear.  If I’m not careful The Man Of The House will remember his request for a goat.

Speaking of the ducks, they have become expert egg hiders. After lulling us into a false sense of security by laying in the same two spots every day, they simply stopped laying altogether. At least that was what we thought – as our hunts were turning up nothing. 

I reassured TMOTH that ducks and chickens did go off the lay for part of the winter and this was perfectly normal.  Consequently none of us were prepared what a school holiday egg hunt turned up – not one or two eggs but FOURTEEN!  Yes fourteen eggs. 

After trying everything we could think of to see if they contained ducklings, it was with much trepidation that we cracked a couple open.  Miss 9 found this very concerning – she did not want to be a party to any type of poultry abortion no matter how accidental. 

Her somewhat less sentimental brothers found it all rather entertaining and took delight in gory imaginings of what the shells might contain and what that might look like.  I for one was most relieved to find the shells contained nothing but egg white and yolk. 

And the one or two that also contained a spot of red were quickly fed to the Slobradogs before anyone could ask just what that red might be. For two days Scooter and Wobbles quacked angrily at me when I ventured outside and gave me a wide berth – but ducks are either very forgiving or two days is the limit to their memories as they are once more running madly to meet me at the gate in the evenings. 

And for our part – we are searching every possible nook and cranny for eggs on a daily basis. I don’t think we would get lucky twice and I think an entire flock of Indian Runners might be a bit much, even for the Great Urban Ark!

In the meantime the Henny Penny Gang has  decided the best pickings (scratchings?) are to be found in my kitchen herb pots at the top of the outside stairs.  I have tried everything – blocking the bottom step, closing the gate and covering it in towels, blocking the entrance via the balustrade. 

None of it works and the HPG takes great delight in dealing to my pots of rosemary, parsley, basil, oreganum, mint et al.  Hilary Clinthen was so determined a week ago that even my chasing her down the stairs four times did not stop her venturing back a fifth to finally kill the Sage.  By then my patience was wearing thin and I threatened to turn her into Sunday dinner – considering she was effectively already stuffed with sage. 

Miss 9 intervened and spent the rest of the afternoon keeping the chickens confined to the front lawn – and the evening muttering declarations of never eating chicken again.

I hope the animals are being more cooperative on your little block – especially as we head into lambing and calving season.  

When you have finished reading this month’s paper why not send us an email and share some of your own animal stories – we may even print some of them.  Email me on editor@ruralliving.co.nz