I think the chickens are trying to knock us off. They won’t stop digging. And they’re not entirely random about where they’re doing it, either: they’ve chosen the one spot most likely to cause us a mischief.

When they were in their first run, which was much smaller than the new 12ft by 8ft compound they now inhabit, we put their incessant excavations down to boredom, but now that they’ve been in their new home a month or so, and have fully settled in, the digging has started again.

And the two main culprits are up there: Margot and Gerry. Barbara may be the ring leader, egging them on, but she’s not stupid enough to get caught. Instead she stands at the back and lets them get on with it, then dives in for a dust bath when they’re done.

Of course, I know that’s why they’re doing it: they roll around in the earth and then shake it off to get rid of any mites they might have picked up (not that there’s any sign of them on the hens, in the roost or among their nesting material).

The trouble is, they’re making a concerted effort to do it right by the door where we walk in with their food and water and it’s getting to the point where we’ll soon be falling into it. Rather impressively they’ve managed to dig so far down you can see beneath the paving slabs that border one edge of the compound, and no matter how many times you fill up the gap with earth or chippings, they just toss it all out again.

At this rate, we’ll have to put an extra paving slab inside the run. Not so much to stop them getting out, but to stop us tripping up and falling in their mess.

Related posts:

1. The chickens get a new home
2. Mucking out the chickens
3. The chickens dig for victory