Talking chicken

When I went out to close up the chicken houses at 5.30pm, Johnny and his girlfriends were quick to tell me they had a problem.

I’d opened the door to their house to check them and close their pophole, but instead of the usual contented clucks I was greeted with a ruffling of feathers and the chicken speak for “we’re thirsty”.

I shut the house door, open the door into the run and, sure enough, found both water bottles had been knocked over.