Rae Roadley: Last hen Ditzy Daisy finds new roost to rule

Ditzy's got a new home.

"Ditzy Daisy, figuring she was the last of my hens, left her coop and settled with the dogs on the deck where she poos constantly.

"An attempt to rehome her didn't go well. She flew at the rooster. A vicious fight ensued. Blood was shed. She came home.

"I am over her, but can't bring myself to 'dispose' of her - even via the vet or smothering with a cushion as suggested by my husband. She would be happiest with one other hen; a flock may attack her - pecking order and all that.

"Ditzy Daisy will come with some food. If you can help, please ... ."

Facebook has a multitude of uses. This post on our community's page found a home for my last hen.

I know, I know. Some of you would have screwed her neck and turned her into a slow-cooked stew. I couldn't. She was a pet and I've never felt hungry enough.

Couldn't even eat the two young roosters which, years ago, had to go. And to see her sitting on our deck beside the farmer's dog Kate whose wagging tail would sometimes tap, tap, tap against her side. It was the cutest thing - but I'd had enough.

I'd nudge her off the deck, she'd sneak back on, I'd chivvy her off, she'd come back. And I cleaned up her "doings". Hens' bowel movements are extraordinarily frequent. Actually, our dogs Floss and Kate ate a lot of them which may be more than you want to know, but that's animals for you.

My Facebook post got a string of comments. Someone offered scraps and 10 acres, but Ditzy didn't want to go far and she'd want company.

Then an entertaining string of messages. A bloke wanted the hen for his daughter. Imagining she might be five, I asked her age, whether the hen would be free range, in town or a rural area, and advised that Ditzy doesn't lay eggs.

The daughter turned out to be 25, they didn't care about eggs and the dad offered to pick her up. He never showed. Turned out he'd been dealing with a naughty billy goat and would come tomorrow.

Again he never showed. I was planning at alternative future for Ditzy, but his daughter had attempted the pick up this time and got hopelessly lost.

I delivered her with a bag of food, checked she wouldn't be roasted and served with three vege and helped settle her in. Really, her new home is quite lovely.

Another day. Another message. Could they buy my chicken coop? Sorry, it's permanent and bigger than most living areas, including the indoor/outdoor flow.

Feeling like Ditzy's aunt, I offered her nesting box and some hay. After delivering them, I began to feel as if Ditzy was no longer mine.

Hopefully she'll soon live with bantams as planned and enjoy her golden years ruling the roost. And if not ... well, when you give a gift, you give up your rights to it and, anyway, I'm busy admiring our sparkling deck.