Way back in mid May we bought our last crop of roasties. We got 12 of them aged 2 weeks. By mid July they were about 11 weeks old and ready for the chop. They were a bit different from our usual roasties. The big difference was that they were brown rather than white. I’m not sure of their exact breed but the white ones really put on weight fast and when I kill them at about 7 or 8 weeks they can be 3kgs after plucking and dressing. However, they are quite ugly and often can only stagger about because they are so fat. Actually not fat but their legs are just enormous. Therefore this time we decided to go for the more aesthetically appealing brown ones, still heftier than the egg laying chickens but much cleaner and seemingly fitter than the whities. They’re happy to walk and scratch about unlike the white ones who are reluctant to stand, even for a drink. I can also confirm they are just as tasty. As per usual with this latest batch when they were ready for killing, I grabbed two per day, killed, plucked and hung them in the barn. However when it got down to the last few they seemed to know what was coming and were a little bit more difficult to catch. And now we get to the point of this story. The very last chicken, Cheeky Charlie as he has become known, savoured his freedom and life a bit more than the rest and escaped! He managed to get out of the chicken paddock and escaped into the bramble patch. However, that was not the end of it. A few hours later he thought it was safe to come out but he hadn’t reckoned on Betty who lay in wait. With a quick lunge, she had Cheeky Charlie and was soon to be seen strutting through the garden with her prize hanging limp between her jaws. Eventually Betty let go of Charlie who sprang into life and headed back to the safety of the brambles. A few feathers missing but apparently none the worse for the experience. But there’s more! A few days before the Cheeky Charlie incident, we were having breakfast in the garden when we heard a huge furore coming from the laying hens. I ran to their paddock to find a mongoose in the chicken run! It was then a case of the Keystone cops with me chasing the mongoose, the chickens running with feathers flying everywhere, the dogs barking and Jackie yelling on the other side of the fence. Eventually the mongoose managed to escape over the wall. As the hens were unharmed, we thought that the mongoose had only come for their eggs – this time. And that is how we leave it – Cheeky Charlie still ‘free’, Betty on the prowl and a mongoose on the lookout for any opportunity.