Cock-a-Doodle Fun Allotment
Vegetables, whatever you may think of them, have a tendency to remain in the same exact spot visit after visit. It's not as if you turn up at the allotment to find the roots have absconded into one corner and the edible fruit in another. No. They tend to grow in the same vertical or horizontal plane within nature's acceptable parameters.
Also, there is no emotional attachment involved in your relationship with your veg. If they become diseased you just pull them out of the ground and throw them on a heap to be burned in the autumn. The only tear you might shed is in memory of the back breaking digging and hours of careful nurturing you have put in to get them to this rancid stage. It's not as if you've called the third beetroot along Lucy or something. Anyway, how do you know the sex of a vegetable? They could be neuters or hermaphrodites for all I know, but what difference does it make? This is the beauty of growing vegetables - they appear inanimate, yet they are alive and growing, which is how I like it.
Unfortunately, for many allotmentors nouveau this is just not good enough. They need more action, more animation, and more....well more...feathers! They want to be welcomed as they arrive at their allotment with the fervent scurry and chaotic cacophony of chickens rushing towards them in anticipation of their next feed. These uber trendy allotmentors just want to be loved - aah bless. They want to have a relationship with their produce, and get some warmth back in return. They want to be emotionally attached. I've always thought that ego and allotmenting is a potent mix and so I tend to steer clear of it. Anyway, I consider the rustle of my sweetcorn palms in the gentle breeze as a sufficient welcome for which I am eternally grateful.
For those of you not tuned into the latest allotmenting zeitgeist, it turns out that keeping chickens is now de rigeur; it's the new denim. To keep up with the latest trend people are buying these new fangled plastic space age pods to keep their chickens in. I refuse to name the brand as they seem to be everywhere and I won't help in promoting their cause. They are paying hundreds of pounds for the pods but I reckon it could take a decade or more to break even in egg production savings. Why not just buy organic eggs and cook them thoroughly. I'm sure Edwina Curry would be happy to supply the odd egg boiling recipe. Eggs and soldiers for breakfast with John Major - let's not go there!
Anyway, if you decide that you want one of these pods I suggest that you wait six months as the trend is sure to wain, and you'll start to pick them up on eBay for about £50. It's hard enough trying to go down to your allotment every week to attend to your static growing stock, but these feathered friends need two visits per day. One to let them out...and you've guessed it...one to let them back in...yawn. This commitment just can't last. A long hard winter is going to sort out the men from the boys, and I can't imagine there being many survivors. All but the most dedicated are sure to fall by the wayside. I suspect the urban fox is licking his lips with joy at the arrival of this fresh clucking buffet. The personal commitment needed for keeping chickens must be on a par with keeping a dog, but at least man's best friend will retrieve a thrown stick occasionally.
Who needs all these eggs? Once your ex battery farm inmate gets comfortable she will be quite happy to produce one egg per day. I know people who keep 3 or 4 chickens, so what to do with all these eggs? Our nation of allotmentors are on the way to becoming egg-bound, and this can't be good.
My concerns are genuinely altruistic as allotmenting is demanding enough for those of us with day jobs. It just hurts to see my fellow allotmentors being seduced by this very expensive fashion statement and then being rushed off their feet like a bunch of headless chickens!
Also, there is no emotional attachment involved in your relationship with your veg. If they become diseased you just pull them out of the ground and throw them on a heap to be burned in the autumn. The only tear you might shed is in memory of the back breaking digging and hours of careful nurturing you have put in to get them to this rancid stage. It's not as if you've called the third beetroot along Lucy or something. Anyway, how do you know the sex of a vegetable? They could be neuters or hermaphrodites for all I know, but what difference does it make? This is the beauty of growing vegetables - they appear inanimate, yet they are alive and growing, which is how I like it.
Unfortunately, for many allotmentors nouveau this is just not good enough. They need more action, more animation, and more....well more...feathers! They want to be welcomed as they arrive at their allotment with the fervent scurry and chaotic cacophony of chickens rushing towards them in anticipation of their next feed. These uber trendy allotmentors just want to be loved - aah bless. They want to have a relationship with their produce, and get some warmth back in return. They want to be emotionally attached. I've always thought that ego and allotmenting is a potent mix and so I tend to steer clear of it. Anyway, I consider the rustle of my sweetcorn palms in the gentle breeze as a sufficient welcome for which I am eternally grateful.
For those of you not tuned into the latest allotmenting zeitgeist, it turns out that keeping chickens is now de rigeur; it's the new denim. To keep up with the latest trend people are buying these new fangled plastic space age pods to keep their chickens in. I refuse to name the brand as they seem to be everywhere and I won't help in promoting their cause. They are paying hundreds of pounds for the pods but I reckon it could take a decade or more to break even in egg production savings. Why not just buy organic eggs and cook them thoroughly. I'm sure Edwina Curry would be happy to supply the odd egg boiling recipe. Eggs and soldiers for breakfast with John Major - let's not go there!
Anyway, if you decide that you want one of these pods I suggest that you wait six months as the trend is sure to wain, and you'll start to pick them up on eBay for about £50. It's hard enough trying to go down to your allotment every week to attend to your static growing stock, but these feathered friends need two visits per day. One to let them out...and you've guessed it...one to let them back in...yawn. This commitment just can't last. A long hard winter is going to sort out the men from the boys, and I can't imagine there being many survivors. All but the most dedicated are sure to fall by the wayside. I suspect the urban fox is licking his lips with joy at the arrival of this fresh clucking buffet. The personal commitment needed for keeping chickens must be on a par with keeping a dog, but at least man's best friend will retrieve a thrown stick occasionally.
Who needs all these eggs? Once your ex battery farm inmate gets comfortable she will be quite happy to produce one egg per day. I know people who keep 3 or 4 chickens, so what to do with all these eggs? Our nation of allotmentors are on the way to becoming egg-bound, and this can't be good.
My concerns are genuinely altruistic as allotmenting is demanding enough for those of us with day jobs. It just hurts to see my fellow allotmentors being seduced by this very expensive fashion statement and then being rushed off their feet like a bunch of headless chickens!
Labels: Chickens