I thought it was about time I posted about the under-gardeners and their supervisor, Tarragon – who's now a very handsome chap indeed.
He takes his supervisory role very seriously, in fact I feel rather redundant as the girls are his under-gardeners now and not mine any more.
Tarragon has all sorts of moves to attract the attention of the ladies . . .
Nutmeg Spice is having a bad hair day, she's moulting and looks far from her best – I think she'd rather that Tarragon kept out of her way!
The senior under-gardeners, Sylvie (at the back) and Phoebe seem resigned to let him take charge, after all they are now four years old and that's about pension age in hen-years. They're looking in fine feather for elderly hens – and they still lay an egg every other day or so.
Tarragon has been particularly annoyed with me since the clocks went back on Saturday, I keep forgetting to serve the corn for supper (about an hour before bed time). You can tell he's annoyed because he gives me a special 'look' and makes a sound like air escaping from a party balloon. Yesterday evening when I checked that all was well in the hut before I soundly fastened the door, he gave me a sharp peck on the back of my left hand leaving a livid purple and red triangle!!!
This afternoon, I didn't forget . . .
He's certainly got all of us girls well trained!
Obadiah, is that you?!
2 hours ago