the FAQ

My mornings typically start with the smell of coffee, grass and wood shavings. As the gravel crunches under my boots, I hear a sudden chorus of clucks, squawks and quacks. I've barely opened the door before the birds tumble out.

The flock is a blur of brown, white and black, stampeding down the ramp to find the usual breakfast that I scatter for my chickens and ducks. I wince and laugh and greet them: "Good morning, everyone."

Sometimes a relationship will change you. For me, it was three: three scraggly, white hens.

An acquaintance of my partner had rescued a large group of hens and was trying to find them homes. These hens were less than a year old and had been kept in tight quarters with no space to lie down, no chance to forage, no sunshine. They deserved better. I didn't k

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