It's time to harvest sloes

Sloes are the little blue-black coloured berries found at this time of year on the Black Thorn Bush, which grows in hedgerows and at roadsides all over the British countryside.

Sloes are used to make Sloe Gin, a really warming and highly alcoholic winter tipple. If you fancy having a go at making some yourself, now is the time to pick your sloes as the frosts that we’ve had recently will have softened the skin a little. However, you should avoid those near busy roadsides, which will have been affected by pollution from passing traffic.

My Sloe Gin recipe really couldn’t be easier; simply wash your sloes, remove any stalks and then prick each one to help release the flavour. Fill an empty bottle up to the half way mark with sloes, add a couple of tablespoons of caster sugar and top up with gin. You don’t need to buy quality gin for this; a cheap one from the supermarket will do just fine. Pop the lid on and leave the bottle in a warm, dry place, such as an airing cupboard, for a minimum of three months, stirring occasionally. You can add more sugar to taste if it’s not sweet enough, but I don’t like my sloe gin too syrupy – it can end up like cough mixture if you overdo it!

By the time it’s ready, the berries will have turned the gin a gorgeous pink colour. All you need to do then is strain the liquid through muslin to get rid of the berries and decant it into smaller bottles. It makes a great, homemade Christmas gift!

Although Sloe Gin is best sipped neat - ideally by a roaring fire on a winter evening - it can be used to make a fruity take on the traditonal G&T if you'd prefer a longer drink over ice.

Sad news from the chicken coop

I'm sad to report that, this week, we lost Samantha and Carrie, two of our four original ex-battery hens, which we re-homed two years ago. We'd already lost Miranda last Autumn, so that just leaves Charlotte now, who, thankfully, appears in good health at the moment.
It's always upsetting to lose a pet, but at least they had just over two years of free range living. That's not bad going as I'm told that ex-battery hens rarely live longer than a year once they're rescued because of the huge toll their time in battery conditions takes on their bodies.
Samantha had been the original alpha female of the flock and once commanded great respect from her peers. For the last week or two, she'd looked a little off-colour; her comb was dull and floppy and her appetite had waned. Also, no matter how much grit I put down for them, her crop kept filling with fluid. Her last couple of days were spent in a make-shift hospital wing in the garden shed, where she had a bit of peace and quiet. Carrie deteriorated much quicker, suddenly becoming very unsteady on her feet and lethargic. She had always been the runt of the group and was a sickly-looking little hen when we first got her, with very few feathers. Most of her feathers grew back as a result of free range living, expect for a stubborn little bald patch on the top of her head. Unfortunately, when she became old and a little unwell, this gave her the appearance of a grumpy-looking little vulture.

On a positive note, the three ex-battery hens that we re-homed last month are thriving; their feathers have grown back and their combs are red. They're full of life and you'd never know that they came from a battery farm. Now that our flock is down to eight, next Spring is sure to bring some new arrivals...

Make your own horseradish sauce

Horseradish growing wild in a country lane.

The perfect accompaniment to your Sunday roast is growing wild in grass verges and country lanes across Yorkshire, but few people recognise it.
Green, leafy and growing in clumps, horseradish (Armoracia Rusticana) could easily be mistaken for dock leaves or comfrey. However, if you take a closer look, you'll notice that its leaves are glossier than those of comfrey and more elongated than dock leaves.
A perennial plant, horseradish is a member of the Brassica family, which includes cabbages and broccoli, as well as mustard and wasabi, which share its fiery flavour.
If you do master the art of correctly identifying it, your prize awaits you below ground – horseradish sauce is made from the plant's roots. You'll need to take a spade with you to dig down. The roots are long and white, and look a little bit like a skinny parsnip. Now is the time to locate and harvest the root before the leaves of the plant die back for winter, which makes it practically impossible to find.

Method
Chop off the leaves and dispose of them. Take the roots and give them a good wash. You'll need to peel away the rough outer skin (as you would when preparing a parsnip or carrot) before grating the roots up finely.
Be warned; the pungent aroma will be released as soon as you start – and it's so powerful that it can irritate your eyes and sinuses. My eyes were streaming with tears when I made some recently.
If you intend to use your horseradish sauce straight away (or at least within a day or two), simply mix a tablespoon of the grated horseradish with three tablespoons of creme fraiche (or sour cream if you'd prefer a more calorific version), and then add a squeeze of lemon, and salt and pepper to taste.
To get the right balance between the flavours, you may need to add a little more horseradish or lemon juice. Mix all the ingredients together in a bowl until smooth, and serve with roast beef and all the trimmings or with cold cuts.

How to preserve horseradish
To turn your grated horseradish into a useful store cupboard ingredient that will last for months so that you can dip into it whenever you like, you can preserve it in a sterilised jam jar using vinegar.
Simply bring malt vinegar to the boil in a saucepan and then leave it to cool.
Fill the jar with grated horse radish, compacting it down as much as possible, and then pour the cool vinegar over it, filling the jar to the top. Next time you want to make horseradish sauce, you can spoon as much as you need out of the jar and then follow the instructions above, as if you were making it using fresh horseradish.

Horseradish recipes to try
It's worth remembering that horseradish is a useful ingredient in a variety of dishes, not just an accompaniment to beef. Like wasabi, it works particularly well with seafood.
One of my favourite horseradish recipes is a South-East Asian prawn and mango salad, which is served as a starter.
A teaspoon of horseradish sauce combined with creme frache, lime juice, chopped mint, a teaspoon of brown sugar and seasoning creates a light, yet creamy, dressing with a kick.
Horseradish is also a useful ingredient in all kinds of marinades and sauces, and gives plain old mashed potato a real lift.

Feathers fly

The introduction of the three new rescued battery hens into our little flock of seven ruffled a few feathers, as predicted.

Hens can be terrible bullies and the gang wasted no time in reminding the new girls of their status in the pecking order. We found that it was the hens with the lowest status in the existing group - Carrie, Charlotte and Scraggedy Anne - that were most determined to harass the new girls (Edna, Patty and Selma). Presumably, they felt that they'd had more than their fair share of being bullied and were desperate to move up the pecking order a little.

Having already exerted her authority over Patty and Selma during their initial week of recuperation away from the other hens, the idea of having to make a stand against a bigger group clearly didn't appeal to Edna. In fact, she seemed quite sorry for herself for the first few days. Despite having had her wings clipped, she somehow managed to escape from the area of the garden where we keep the hens and took herself off to the garden shed in protest.

I hate the whole process of creating a new pecking order but it's part and parcel of the life of a hen. Thankfully, now that a few days have passed, things are starting to calm down and the new arrivals are settling in. They seem content to accept their lowly status and have clearly decided it's just not worth the fight.

When a former work colleague called round for lunch earlier in the week, he was astonished at the notable difference between the appearance of the hens fresh from the battery farm and our existing flock. I don't think he'd realised what a toll battery farming can take on a girl's looks. If only more people had their eyes opened to what the life of a battery hen is really like, I'm convinced that they'd be put off cheap supermarket eggs for good.

Patty checks out the rest of the flock from the safety of the other side of the fence before she and the other rescued battery hens were introduced to the gang.

New arrivals

I've been neglecting my blog a little lately, but I have a good excuse...
I've been preparing for the arrival of, and settling in, our three, new ex-battery hens - Edna Crabapple (II), Patty and Selma. It was the second time that we'd put our names down on the British Hen Welfare Trust's (BHWT) re-homing list; we originally re-homed four ex-battery hens two years ago, three of which (Carrie, Samantha and Charlotte) are still going strong.

Just over a week ago, I received an email to say that our latest batch of hens would be ready for collection on July 15. My husband, Jonny, and I travelled to a farm just north of York on a wet and miserable Saturday morning armed with a cardboard box with air holes punched in the side in which to transport the girls home.

The BHWT runs a very slick operation and proceedings were in full swing by the time we arrived. We'd offered to re-home three hens, but, having recently lost a favourite hen called Edna Crabapple at just a year old to peritonitis, we enquired whether we'd be able to take four. However, we were told that all of the hens were already allocated, which we didn't mind one bit as it's fantastic that so many people are willing to give battery hens a chance of leading a normal life.

When we arrived home, we left the three girls to settle down in our garden shed as we knew they'd be too weak and disorientated to be introduced to the rest of our flock straight away. Hens are notorious for their strict pecking order and can be real bullies, so we felt that our three new girls needed a little time to adjust to free range living first. At first they just stood around looking dazed, but then, if you've only ever seen the inside of a cage, it must be a little daunting to suddenly find yourself out in the big wide world beyond. We managed to persuade them to eat and drink a little; I gave them some plain mashed potato, as well as a little layer's mix, to try to settle their stomachs.

Edna Crabapple (II) is becoming the alpha female of the group

By day two, the hens were showing more interest in the world outside and venturing to the door of the shed. We removed the wire screen from the doorway and encouraged them out into the garden. One hen - the largest one with the most prominent comb - was clearly becoming the alpha female of the group and was the first to begin exploring the garden. We named her Edna Crabapple (II) in honour of our deceased hen. The other two were far less bold and Jonny, sticking with the Simpsons theme, named them Patty and Selma. Poor Patty spent much of her time in the garden hiding in the rhubarb patch and peering out anxiously from beneath the big green leaves.


It's a big, scary world for poor little Patty

On day three, there was a marked improvement in all three hens; not only were they more active when we let them out into the garden, but they were even starting to peck at plants and scavenge between the stones. Having being prevented from indulging in this sort of natural chicken behaviour for so long, it's fantastic to see their instincts return. I really knew they were feeling better when Edna starting munching on the baby carrot plants in my vegetable patch! I'd forgotten that battery hens don't know how to use a nest box and tend to deposit their eggs anywhere, but was reminded when Selma layed right in the middle of the garden!

Selma explores the garden

 They're by no means the prettiest hens - they're all missing quite a few feathers, and their combs are pale and droopy - but it's a real joy seeing them take their first few steps on the road to recovery. In a few days they will be strong enough to join the rest of of our little flock and I'm sure that, under Edna's leadership, they'll ruffle a few feathers! In a few weeks time, they will be looking much healthier and the horrors of their first year of life will be far behind them. If you'd like to rescue a battery hen from her cage, visit: www.bhwt.org.uk/

Snapshots from nature

Perhaps it's because it's such a beautiful time of year, with the countryside so lush and full of life, but, just recently, on my daily dog walks I've been snapping away with my camera at things that have caught my eye. Sometimes it's a plant or a particular view, other times it's just the clouds blowing across the sky or the way the sunlight catches the grasses. The beauty of nature never ceases to amaze me...

Wild Dog Roses

Hog Weed, much prettier than the name suggests

Silvery grass against a stormy sky

Hog Weed seed heads

Meadow

Just grass and sky

Under attack!

My young vegetable plants have come under attack from a slimy old adversary; the slug.

A few weeks ago I planted out several Butternut Squash and Courgette plants, and two different types of beans, all of which I’d grown from seed. Just a few nights later, the slugs munched their way through the lot. Thankfully, I had a few spare plants left over, so I re-planted and have since take steps to protect them.

Dealing with slugs poses a real dilemma for the organic gardener. For me, using highly toxic slug pellets to kill these insatiable little pests is not an option. Aside from the fact that I have dogs, a cat and chickens in my garden, pellets also pose a threat to birds, hedgehogs and other wildlife. Plus, I’m opposed to the idea of using chemicals in my garden and determined to work with nature, rather than against it.

So, how best to tackle the problem? In the past I’ve tried all kinds of supposed solutions, from spreading used filter coffee and crushed egg shells around the base of my plants (disappointingly ineffective) to creating slug traps filled with beer (a waste of beer!) to lure slugs to their (highly alcoholic) death.

Reels of copper tape, available from garden centres, work well around the base of individual plant pots, but it would be very costly to put the tape all the way around the vegetable patch.



Copper tape around a pot containing young Courgette plants.

 Last year, I bought packs of Nematodes (roundworm) from a gardening website. You water these naturally-occurring, microscopic organisms into the soil and they kill off the slugs. Whilst this method did seem effective, it proved a rather expensive solution as you have to re-apply Nematodes to areas blighted by slugs several times during the growing season.

This year, for the time being at least, I’m using a combination of copper tape around my pots and Fito Slug Stoppa granules to create a barrier around the base of my vulnerable young plants. This has helped to keep the nasty little critters at bay so far, but every morning I check to make sure the barricade around each plant has not been breached.

I’ve also resorted to hand-picking slugs from the garden by torchlight and storing them in a box overnight before feeding them to my chickens for breakfast the next day.

Fito Slug Stoppa granules create a barrier around the base of plants.

I’m doing my best to encourage hedgehogs and birds to visit the garden and also considering introducing a small area of water in the hope of attracting frogs and toads – all of these creatures are natural predators of slugs and keep the population under control. In an ideal world, my chickens would free range over the entire garden devouring slugs as they went, but, the trouble is, that they’d also feast on my young vegetable plants too. I’m told that ducks pack away more than their fair share of slugs, but I’ve yet to convince my husband, Jonny, to add a couple of ducks to our menagerie; never say never!

Auntie Elsie’s Elderflower Cordial

With its heady scent and frothy cream-coloured blooms, the flowering of the Elder tree is considered by many to signal the start of summer.

If the appearance of Elderflowers is a reminder of the changing seasons, then those who have tried recipes made using the flowerheads will no doubt associate their deliciously fragrant flavour with the British summertime too.

While the Elderberries that form later in the season are often collected in the autumn to make wine and jam, many people overlook the Elderflowers. Yet, they were once prized as an ingredient in a wide range of recipes, as well as for their medicinal properties.

At one time, it was even thought that the Elder, a native of the British Isles, had magical properties and could ward off evil spirits.

Elder trees grow in abundance throughout the hedgerows and woodlands of Yorkshire, and they’re just starting to come into flower.

If you want to try using the flower heads as an ingredient, then this cordial recipe is a great place to start. It’s a family favourite given to me several years ago by my Auntie Elsie.

The flower heads are at their best when picked on a warm, dry day, when they’re in full bloom and laden with pollen. Try to avoid picking them from alongside busy roads, where they will be dirty and tainted with pollution from passing cars.

Although you may feel the need to wash the flower heads, it’s actually better not to. A good shake to get rid of any little insects is enough.

Ingredients

25 Elderflower heads

3lb caster sugar

2oz citric acid (available from some chemists and shops or websites selling jam-making equipment)

Two sliced lemons

2 and-a-half pints of boiling water

Method

Tip the sugar into a large bowl and add the boiling water, then leave to cool. Add the other ingredients and press the Elderflower heads firmly into the liquid. Cover the bowl and leave it for 48 hours, giving it a good stir from time to time.

Strain the cordial and bottle it. It can be stored for several months.

When diluted with water, this cordial is delicious served chilled over ice with a slice of lemon and a sprig of mint. It can also be frozen to a slush to make a refreshing sorbet or even used with gin as an alternative mixer.

And here's this year's batch, made at the weekend with the help of my God daughter, Jodie:

I fell asleep among the flowers, for a couple of hours...

Is there anything nicer than strolling through an English meadow on an early summer afternoon?

This one is scattered with Oxeye Daisies, Buttercups, Vetch, Cow Parsley and a host of other native wildflowers and grasses. I could happily while away an hour or two on a picnic blanket in the sunshine listening to the gentle hum of the bees and watching the butterflies idly flitting from one bloom to the next.

Even Wolfie, my two-year old German Shepherd, paused to admire her surroundings.

First harvest from the vegetable garden

We've harvested the first of our new potatoes from the vegetable garden. We planted our seed potatoes, an early variety, back in mid-March and they seem to have done really well, despite taking a battering during the recent high winds.

It's the first time I've grown potatoes myself and I'm really pleased with the results. We'll enjoy these this evening with lashings of butter and some fresh mint from the herb garden. Pulling up a couple of roots of potatoes has left me with enough space to plant a few extra Leek plants, which we'll be glad of later in the year when there's not much else in the vegetable garden.

We've been harvesting Rocket and Lamb's Lettuce for the past few weeks, as well as Chives, Basil, Lemon Balm, Oregano, Rosemary, Mint and aniseed-flavoured Fennel tips, which are great mixed into a salad. The salad and herbs have done really well and we've had a near constant supply; it's weeks since I've had to buy any from the shops. The trick is to sow salad seed at regular intervals so that you have a continuous supply through the summer months.

Our Beetroot, Radish, Onions, Garlic, Spinach and Peas are all doing well, but my young Squash, Courgette and Bean plants have all suffered slug damage. More about that later...

Comfrey: A beautiful and useful wild plant

I love the vivid blue of the flowers on this Comfrey plant. The colour is strangely exotic for a native wildflower, yet the tiny bell-like blooms give the plant the appearance of a typically English cottage garden plant. Comfrey likes to grow on riverbanks and other damp, grassy spots, and is abundant at this time of year. You're likely to see a range of different hues, ranging from the deepest pink to a soft mauve, right through to this stiking cobalt shade. 

As well as being very attractive, Comfrey is also an extremely useful plant. For centuries, it has been used for medicinal purposes and, when applied topically in ointment form, is said to speed up the healing of broken bones, sprains, fractures and bruises. This explains why it is sometimes referred to as 'Knitbone'.

It's also an excellent fertiliser for the organic gardener. 'Comfrey tea' is made by rotting the leaves down in rainwater for a month or more. I dilute the resulting liquid (at a ratio of 15 parts water to one part Comfrey tea) and use it to fertilise my tomatoes, although it's great for all fruit and vegetable plants, and even your hanging baskets, pots and tubs. Comfrey can also be added to your compost bin to add extra nitrogen and speed up the composting process.

Did the recent thunder storms cause our hens to stop laying?

At this time of year, with the longest day just over a month away, our eight hens are usually at their most productive. So we were more than a little surprised when they suddenly stopped laying last week. Egg production dropped from five or six eggs per day to as few as one a day or, sometimes, none at all.
Wondering if the coop had been invaded by red mites - a nasty parasite that plagued our hens last summer - or some other pest, we gave the hens a health check and the coop a thorough clean-out, as well as sprinkling some red mite powder in the bedding. Thankfully there was no sign of anything sinister; all our hens appear to be in rude health. This made the sudden lack of eggs all the more puzzling.
It was only when my husband, Jonny, ran into another local chicken-keeper that we discovered that our hens were not the only ones to have stopped laying.
It became apparent that the problem was not unique to us, so we began to look for other explanations. The penny dropped when it was mentioned to us that thunder storms can have a detrimental effect on hens - we'd had powerful storms, with thunder and lightening, the week before. A bit more research revealed that, when healthy hens suddenly stop laying, it's usually because they've had a shock of some sort. Several websites and forums that I've looked at appear to suggest that thunder and lightening frightens hens, disrupting their laying patterns.

Thankfully, two weeks after the storms, egg production is now picking up again; we had four yesterday and three the day before. Looks like we'll have to sound-proof the coop next time a storm is forecast!

The wild Arum Lily

Whilst walking my dogs, Bobbie and Wolfie, along a shaded, woodland path alongside a disused railway line recently, I noticed a striking wildflower emerging from a cluster of glossy green leaves. It reminded me of the elegant and exotic Arum Lily, which you can buy from florist’s shops as a cut flower.

Back at home, I carried out some research to try to identify the plant and discovered that it is indeed part of the Arum family. Its correct name is Arum Maculatum, but it’s more commonly known as Lords and Ladies. It thrives in shady, woodland areas, and usually emerges in April or May. I think the ones I saw were a little earlier than usual this year due to the warm temperatures that we’ve been experiencing.

The plant is pollinated by insects lured towards it by an unpleasant odour. They are then dusted with pollen from the male flowers before escaping and spreading the pollen to the female flowers on nearby plants. When the leaves and flowers die back in the autumn, a cluster of highly poisonous bright red berries is all that remains.

Bountiful Black Thorn promises bumper crop of sloes

I’ve noticed a particularly lavish display of creamy-white blossom on the Black Thorn trees and bushes lining nearby hedgerows.

Its delicate beauty is a sight to behold and a potent sign of spring , but the abundance of blossom also promises a bumper crop of sloes - the dark, blue-black berries used to make Sloe Gin – this autumn. Sloes are the fruit of the Black Thorn, or Prunus Spinosa to give it its correct name.

In recent years, sloes have been thin on the ground as the late frosts seemed to strike at just the wrong time, damaging the blossom buds and preventing the berries from forming properly. This year, a harsh winter followed by an unseasonably warm April seems to have created just the right conditions and I look forward to rich pickings in the autumn.



Free a battery hen from her cage: All you need to know about re-homing battery hens

My happy ex-battery hens today

A year-and-a-half ago, we re-homed four ex-battery hens. Since then, we've added another three hens to our little flock. We've grown very attached to our feathered friends. Today they're a picture of health and give us an almost constant supply of eggs. If you're thinking of keeping hens in your garden, I'd strongly urge you to consider freeing a battery hen from her cage. Here's an account of our experiences:

Having grown up on a farm where we always had an abundance of fresh eggs, I'd been thinking about making room for a few hens in my garden for some time.

I was really hankering after a few pretty little Silkies (a fluffy Asian breed), but I'd heard about a charitable organisation that re-homes battery hens and decided to find out more.

The British Hen Welfare Trust (formerly the Battery Hen Welfare Trust) has a number of co-ordinators nationwide, all volunteers. Each year they re-home around 60,000 battery hens that would otherwise be destined for the slaughterhouse. Hens can easily live eight to ten years, yet battery hens are considered 'spent' at a year to 18 months old. This is despite the fact that they will continue to lay eggs for a number of years, albeit at a diminishing rate.

My conscience pricked, I contacted my nearest co-ordinator and requested four hens. The waiting list for hens from the next 'rescue' was already full, so my details were added to the waiting list for a future rescue mission and I was told I'd receive an email nearer the time confirming when we'd be able to collect our hens.

Preparing for the arrival of our hens
In the meantime, we converted a redundant dog run and kennel into suitably secure accommodation - our Labrador and German Shepherd are more likely to be found lounging on the rug in front of the stove. We put down a layer of deep bark chippings to give the hens something to root around in, although we've since given them the run of a large part of the garden during the day so now just tend to put straw down in the converted dog run and lock them in there each night. We also bought a bag of feed; the British Hen Welfare Trust recommends ex-battery crumbs, which are designed to give the hens all the nutrients they need.



Our hens enjoy a free range life these days, although they were reluctant to venture out during the recent snow!

 A few weeks later, we received an email and headed down to a farm in Lincolnshire with a large cardboard box with air vents in the side. Collections usually take place at specified times and, although we'd arrived early, a lengthy queue was already forming. It was only then that we became aware of the full scale of the operation; thousands of hens were due to be collected that day.

We'd been warned that battery hens rarely appear as fit as their free range counterparts and I was a little concerned about what to expect. However, we were told that any sick or injured hens would end their days pottering about the co-ordinator's farm.

I was pleasantly surprised when I saw our four hens for the first time. Although a few feathers had been pecked out here and there (a common problem among battery hens caused largely by boredom) and their combs were a little pale and floppy due to the lack of sunlight, they didn't look as bad as I'd feared.

Once we got our girls home we released them into their secure run and left them to settle down. That evening, as dusk fell, all four hens huddled together on the ground, apparently unaware that they were supposed to roost in their coop. Concerned that they would catch a chill, we gave them a helping hand.

Me feeding cucumber to Carrie, my favourite hen

A diary of our hens' first five days of freedom

Day one: We awoke to the sound of hens contentedly clucking outside. They'd worked out how to climb down the little ramp from their coop and, during the course of that first day, they gave us three eggs. One had been laid on the ground - not surprising given that they would have been used to depositing their eggs on the floor of their cages - but two were actually nestling in the boxes.

The hens didn't have a huge amount of energy and stayed close together for much of the time, but it was encouraging to see that their urge to scratch among the bark chippings quickly returned. On quite a few occasions I caught them dozing in the sunshine, soaking up the rays as if recharging their batteries.

Day two: The transformation was astonishing. The hens had decided to turn their attention to the important business of creating a pecking order within the group. The smallest hen with the least feathers appeared to be at the bottom of the hierarchy, and was hassled and harried by the two most dominant hens. She sought sanctuary under the chicken coop and we became a little concerned for. I quickly referred to Hens in the garden, eggs in the kitchen, a fantastic little book that a good friend bought for me and was reassured to learn that this was all part of the natural process. Two more eggs resulted, despite the bickering!

Day three: There was much less squabbling, but it was evident that the largest of the hens had cemented her position as alpha female. She spent much of the day with her second in command, while the two remaining hens seemed to accept their more lowly status. We began introducing fruit and vegetable scraps to their diet. Once again, the smallest hen needed help making it into the coop at night, but we got two more eggs!

Day four: We had a visit from the children of some friends of ours. Right on cue, the girls produced two perfect eggs for them to collect. I made the mistake of wearing sandals when I went to feed the hens and they seemed to think that the nail polish on my toes was food; they were definitely becoming more lively! I also noticed that their combs were beginning to turn pinky-red already; it was amazing the difference a few days outdoors had made. For the first time, all four hens were safely tucked up inside the coop at dusk.

Day five: It rained and my fair-weather, feathered friends produced just one egg between them for the first time since their arrival, Still, that took the tally to ten - not bad in less than a week!

If you'd like to find out more about re-homing battery hens, visit the British Hen Welfare Trust website at www.bhwt.org.uk