A tale of two Polands

Do you remember how astounded I was, a couple of posts ago, about the huge changes in Pom-Pom's regime?

"Puts herself to bed in the coop," I said.

"Gets up at the same time as the others," I said.

"Lays her eggs in the nestbox," I said.

Well delete all of the above!   She waited until that story had been safely stored on my blog and read by you, then went back to her old habits.   

I do find myself wondering about a couple of things though.   You know how sometimes you get so comfortable on the settee that, much to your surprise, you wake up to find you'd nodded off without realising it.  Well perhaps that's what has happened to Pom-Pom this last day or two - the log being her equivalent of a settee.   And to be fair, we all oversleep occasionally don't we.   So that could be why Madam didn't appear at breakfast time yesterday and blinked groggily at me when I opened up the coop to check on her.   And I'm sure there's a plausible reason why she laid her egg in the furthermost corner of the spare coop yesterday too.  I just can't think of one at the moment.

And so, inevitably, we come to Fizz.   When I let everyone out yesterday, Maggie and the two Araucanas scooted to the top end of the run to hoover up the pellets they knew they'd find there.   A minute later, Fizz dashed up after them (he'd stopped for a quick bite to eat downstairs first).   He headed straight for Rebecca, his intentions being strictly dishonourable - as if we didn't know. 

Unfortunately for him, Rebecca was breakfasting right beside Maggie and Maggie does not like to be disturbed when she's eating.   Poor old Fizz found himself being chased back from whence he came.   It was just his luck that Irene was on her way up, just as he was on his rather rapid way down.  That irritated her because breakfast was being delayed..   So there he was, sandwiched between a grouchy Orpington and a tetchy Light Sussex.   His only way was up and he made a magnificent vertical leap.

The snag with his strategic withdrawal plan was that he came straight down again and found himself in the same adverse circumstances.  Before Irene and Maggie could have another go at him, he ducked under the log and legged it across the run.  Then jumped onto the smoking shelter roof and down into the lower run, coming to a halt by me.

I stroked his back and reassured him that he was still the prettiest cockerel in the run.  He seemed happier after that and went on his way.