Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
The auspicious day arrived and Sean collected our nine chickens from the farm supply in
Gardonne. He lifted the boxes out of the car and carefully let them out into the run. They
were the right colour but, horror of horrors, their necks were bare, totally feather free. They
ran off, scared out of their wits. Sean and the girls spent hours watching them.
Within a few weeks the chickens had become an important part of life at Garrigue. Sean
got up early to let them out. At night he closed them into their coop, safe from foxes. They
loved Sean, their source of food: a mix of grain and leftovers. When they saw him they
would stampede like ladies at a summer sale beating each other off to be first in line. Their
running gait was hilarious: one minute genteelly pecking around the garden, the next run-
ning like mad, skirts hoicked up over their knees.
The hens started laying: first a mixed bag of erratic, tiny eggs, then a steady flow of good-
sized speckled or brown eggs, often with double yolks. We ate our first home-grown om-
elette with relish. The yolks were a more vibrant yellow than I had ever seen and the fla-
vour was superb.
Early one Sunday morning I heard a commotion that didn't sound like the usual egg lay-
ing. I dropped everything and sprinted onto the terrace. A hen was scrambling up the road
withamonstrousdoginpursuit.Iletoutablood-curdling yellandranatthedog,forgetting
my own safety in my effort to protect the hen. The dog turned tail and ran.
With my heart beating like a helicopter rotor and my adrenalin pumping I went up to the
chicken house fearing the worst. A bundle of chickens were huddled in one corner. I con-
soled them quietly and counted. Eight. I did a circuit of the garden and the fields around the
house then came back to count again. The number was the same. I was devastated. Sophia
and Ellie came out. Sophia counted and burst into tears.
'Don't worry, Sophia,' said Ellie sagely, not clear on what was happening.
'Ellie's right,' I said. 'Don't worry. She is probably hiding because she's scared. We'll have
a good look with Dad when he comes in for some water.'
I didn't hold out much hope. I felt sad, far more affected than I thought I would be. I hadn't
realisedhowmuchapartofthefamilytheyhadbecomewiththeirbeadyeyes,pointybeaks
and hilarious lacy skirts.
When Sean came in from doing his anti-fungal treatment we did another circuit looking
for the missing chicken. Sean went up to the hen house and counted again. As he closed
the gate, fearing she was lost for good, the hen stepped cautiously out of the thick hedge
behind the coop. She had been hiding in fear since the incident. Hearing Sean's voice, she
felt safe enough to come out. All of the chickens were safe and sound.
Our gourmet hens were producing enough eggs to provide much of our protein require-
ments. We tightened our belts and stopped buying meat. Alongside decreasing our cost of
living I had to create some income. The wine tourism had to succeed. My first reservation
for a Médoc wine tour had just come in. Although it was far - almost three hours' drive -
