Poor old Barbara clearly wants to be a mum. She’s not coming down from the nest in the morning, and after three hours (or more) of sitting on not only her eggs, but also Gerry and Margot’s efforts I’m having to physically lift her out of the Eglu and down into the run.

She doesn’t like it. She makes funny little noises as you open up the side of the Eglu to pick her out, and then makes herself as wide and flat as she can over the eggs, which makes her quite difficult to pick up.

Then, when you put her down, she plumps up all of her feathers and sits there on the floor, among the chippings, shaking a little. I’m not sure whether she’s shocked or furious.

Fortunately she’s not getting too cross about it. She’s not pecked me, which I thought she might, although I’m wearing gardening gloves just in case she gets too protective.

Unfortunately, though, looking at the various chickeny books we have, this could easily go on for three weeks.

Related posts:

1. The chickens get a new home
2. Moulting chickens
3. The chickens go back undercover