Blog @ Work

Cock-a-doodle-doo

After a copious dinner with the gang involving a large steak and a sorbet, with strawberries from local farmer Geert who happens to be a television celebrity, I went to bed in the B&B. Alarm set at 8 am.

I woke up with a strange noise: Cock-a-doodle-do, cock-a-doodle-do! It was 6.15 am and I remembered I was in the country side.

The black rooster of the B&B was enthusiastically waking everybody up. I looked out of the window and there he was: high up in the tree. I didn’t know roosters and chickens would fly into trees to begin their daily rituals? I am a city girl, don’t know much about poultry anyway, except when lying on my plate. I learn that they can fly when their wing pins are left intact. The birds in large farms have no wing pins left so they don’t fly.

That day I saw two fox cups, a buzzard, lots of singing birds and one chicken laying down her eggs at the neighboring chickens to hatch.

I ate the home grown eggs for breakfast with a little bit more respect.