Our suspicion that four of our six May chicks are cockerels was put beyond doubt this morning. The usual manic pecking around for corn and morning wing stretch was accompanied by a four way show down as the four largest birds squared up against one another in every combination for prime position on the compost heap. And fine birds they are too with their ruffs up and spurs jangling. I’ve no idea who won, they all just seemed to get tired of it and wander off. But there’s no doubt now which is which. The two obvious hens (smaller, no combs, no spurs) simply ignored the whole malarkey.

The trouble with chickens as a food crop is that you can’t just pick of a leg and come back the next day when it’s grown a new one. And all four are all quite magnificent creatures, with irridescent black tail feathers on two of them, and gorgeous marmalade hues on the other two. Such a shame to have to strip them of all that finery and reduce them to barely recognisable body parts to make a meal from them. And no, we can’t keep four cockerels.

The rasperries are another matter entirely. On recommendation from a tutor at college I planted 10 ‘Polska’ canes this spring. We’ve been picking them on and off all summer and now they’ve exploded into fruiting. So each day for the past fortnight I’ve gone up to check on the chickens out and come back with a handful, and sometimes a bowlful of the sweetest, best flavoured raspberries I’ve ever grown. And unlike the poor cockerels, I can eat them in all their unsullied magenta gorgeousness. And the more I pick, the more I get. Now that’s a crop.

September 14, 2009