“Fatten up the caterpillars. Next week I fly from the Congo for the Willow Hill nests n nosh!

“I will probably turn up again around the 15th April but you will hear me… and Spring don’t start ‘til I turn up – does it? So WAIT! [chuckle]

“I will stop off for a few weeks along the Ivory Coast then fly over the Sahara. I’ll probably drop into Algeria for a bite to eat and catch up with some fellow travellers before flying for a sojourn in Spain for as long as I fancy before my final leg up the French Atlantic coast, and over to my little orchard on a hill, Just when them sweet nested couples will be laying their eggs. Oh how merry! [sneer].

I don’t have many friends over there but  who needs them? I might be pigeon ugly but I ain’t no pigeon brain.

Those farm cats like me, though. Chips & Purry. Never forget watching the time my daughter hatched, pushed out the dimwit dunnock’s little babies and whoops! The cats ate them. Chuck is doing well. She is flying over too.”

“Get them nettles growing my caterpillars.

Cuckoo!”

“A dinosaur relic. A phobia over my claws. I’ve heard it all. But I give. I try to give an egg a day. That’s some 300 eggs a year. For that the most I ask is to do is a little clawing to slip a few earthworms.

Yes, I get a lil’ noisy at times – pushing out an egg ain’t easy. I like to moan and to gossip but what girl doesn’t?

I am not ‘clever’ like you are. But how clever are you?

I sleep well at night. I have no issues with MY mental health. I roam and yes – I scavenge – but isn’t that a good thing to do? One person’s waste is another’s reward and I am proud to spend my days scavenging. I have done it for thousands of years but hey! Now it is cool for humans too? I wonder why that is….

And you call me a dinosaur?!

I am lucky to  be a hen. My men are either cocks or lost to being genetically engineered meat engines. I no longer fancy them, though apparently you do.

When you meet me, all I ask is you call me Henrietta (or ‘Hen’ for short). I am no spring chicken, just as you are no lump of meat. Keep your dogs away, too.

“I don’t just play ball with kids. This place is surrounded by foxes. Here i am on constant patrol and alert.

Just the word FOX kicks in my adrenalin.

I make lots of noise and chase (at least for as long as they choose to run)

My boss jokes I look like one – even though I don’t. They are bigger, uglier, fiercer, scarier.

I only do it for the hens. No I don’t – I cannot stand scavengers, especially the precocious and spoiled Henrietta.

I do it for the extra supper ;-)”