Four of the hens escaped. The first I knew about it was when my dh looked out the window and saw them on the other side of the fence on the public footpath. As he is ill with a cold, he went up to bed. It is not quite call outthe priest I am dying, but he did wake at five so that I could fix him a hot drink.
I took the dogs thinking it would easy. Hah! The chkens resolutely refused to show me the hole they had escaped from -- the dogs did not seem to be any help. Then I took the dogs back, and go th the fishing net. They seemed docile enough.
Caught one, popped it over the fence. Piece of cake. The other three scattered and went into the neighbor's garden. Two huddled on a precipe, the last one under a holly bush/ I went for the holly bush white sussex first, and managed to drive it down the slope into stream and through the watergate. Thew other two had vanished.
I then went back for the dogs. Then armed with dogs and fishing net, I tried again. The remaining two were back on the path, but when they saw the dogs, they took off under the holly bush. The dogs and I then herded them down to the watergate. Unfortunately the erosion at the watergate is such that both dogs were able to squeeze under. This is not good! We shall have to bank up stone.
Now throughly brambled, holly bushed and streaked with mud, I haveto get ready to brave the eldest's teacher in the scrum that is the high school's parent teacher conferences.
My dh has retired to bed, hurt. I expect the calls for the priest to start soon.