This week we had a pet chicken, for 24 hours.
Friend Caroline had a broody hen, and she thought it would be nice for the girls if the hen, called Ginger, came to live with us until the eggs hatched.
But somewhere between being hoiked off her original nest, being stuffed in a box, the car journey and the new surroundings, Ginger forgot that she was feeling broody, rejected the eggs and refused to comply.
So she's gone home.
(That's not a euphemism.)
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