you can always say it with flowers

Impatience and my own desire to achieve 'closure' on the Valentine's chicken saga got the better of me today. (you will have to read previous 2 blog entries to see where I'm coming from.)

I had done a bit of detective work around the village, and now had a good idea who the dog's owners were and where they lived. Around 12.00 midday, I jumped into the car, and went round - a moment later and I'd have been too late. As it was, I met lady's husband just driving off, with dog, and he knew who I was straightaway (the wellies and green John Deere overalls might have given the game away.)

He apologised on his wife's behalf, who was out, saying they had been expecting me to go round. As I did not know the names of these people, or where they lived, I don't know how they thought I was going to manage this, but anyway, I had. I requested payment for replacement and politely pointed out that it was more than 'just a chicken' etc etc.

I said my piece, made my peace..and left.

Closure, lunch and an afternoon out with the children.

Later on, I'm in the kitchen, cooking steak and chips, when there's a knock at the door, and a very apologetic lady is standing awkwardly at the door, with a bouquet of flowers.

It is she, owner of the Valentine's chicken slayer, in person.

It must have been difficult for her to come round, but there she was. I had made her feel bad - bringing flowers made her feel better - and now I've received the flowers, I'm feeling really bad.

It was, after all, just a chicken....?

http://www.dovefarm.co.uk/

just a chicken...

So here's the sorry tale of the Valentine's chicken.

Feb 13 and husband Henry presents me with dead chicken, that has apparently been killed by someone's dog as they were walking past the farm.

Dog owner apparently admits what has happened, and says she will come round with money to replace bird. All this happens unbeknown to me, and husband Henry is in the middle of a conversation on his mobile at the time - so takes little notice and nods. (hmmm....)

I consider the dead bird carefully and decide that under the circumstances of free range campaigning, I should do the ethical thing and prepare it as food. It is, after all, as free range as a chicken can ever be. So I put aside the fact that she is 'Mrs Speckle' and focus on 'Coq au vin.'

I refer you to previous blog for the end results of that particular rustic culinary adventure.

Anyway, the days go by, and my somewhat philosophical approach is now turning to 'irritated and indignant', as there is no sign of the lady concerned. It's not so much a question of money to replace the chicken (between £20 - £40 depending on what type and breed) - it's more the dismissive message that is coming through of 'it's only a chicken...' and therefore it doesn't matter.

Well, Mrs Speckle was a pet, regarded with much affection by me and Natalie, our youngest, who takes a great interest in the poultry. Now the dog owner concerned does not know this, but that's the whole point, how can she know if she is simply not concerned...

not quite what I had in mind

Valentine's Day started with a creative flurry at Dove Farm. With it being half-term, me and the kids had got busy doing all sorts of craft-type things, including these valentine's hearts.

I think we were all mightily impressed with these little clay hearts - we poured left-over clay into a heart shaped ice-cube tray, and then went mad with candy colours, sequins, beads and glitter. Fab!

Even Joshua (middle offspring) is persuaded by his sisters, to decorate one for a particular young lady, we knew would be sending him a valentine's gift. Sure enough, her mum drove her down to the farm at 11.00 am. so she could run across the yard and push an envelope into my hand," to pass on to Josh".

If only he appreciated such lavish female attentions....aah, I feel a sense of forboding as I look ahead to the broken hearts and anguish that must surely come, as our little brood grows up to the ruthless and uncomfortably public, popularity contest, that is thinly veiled as 'Valentine's Day.'

husband Henry and I spent a pretty busy day. Henry being occupied with builders, finishing the roof on our new porch/utility room, whilst I went swimming with kids and called in on a few people, including nanna and grandad, who were also lucky enough to receive one of our hand-crafted hearts!

It was when we finally sat down to our valentine's supper, that things went a bit wrong.

One of our chickens was killed by a dog yesterday evening. (That's another story, for another blog) but anyway, I decided to take the practical self-sufficient approach - and prepared the bird for the pot within the hour, and had it in a casserole on a low heat for the rest of the evening.

This was quite a difficult undertaking for me, with it being a pet chicken and all - and also highly inconvenient on a wednesday night, with a million other things all waiting to be done.

So now, I was hoping to serve up some kind of gastronomic, hearty yet ethical delight, in true 'River cottage' style http://www.rivercottage.net/ but husband Henry, (who only eats white chicken breast at the best of times) pushes a few veg round the plate and that's it. Needless to say, I was annoyed. (please read this as under-statement in its purest form.) I leave the table and nearly leave home, and that's it really - and we would all have been emotionally better nourished if I had wasted raw chicken, instead of wasting it cooked, with the addition of many other ingredients. There has to be a moral in there somewhere. I'll try to think what it is... http://www.dovefarm.co.uk/

Things aren't always what they seem

Now, at first sight, this may be interpreted as a farmer in touch with his feminine and domestic side (not that I am linking feminine and domestic as a social statement on gender roles - it's just that a pink handbag and a hoover, happen to be in shot.)

However, do not be mislead. This is simply a case of husband Henry, grabbing a five o'clock cup of tea, after a long day, and not really caring what chaos reigns around him. I couldn't resist taking the pic.

Somewhat predictably, it's back to chickens again: (the ready-wrapped variety.)
More empty shelves at our 2 main supermarkets, where free-range, or 'freedom food' chicken should be.

This can be interpreted, of course, in a number of ways: Either there has been a sustained mad rush, and all the free-range chicken has flown off the shelves, or there is insufficient supply to meet even the tiniest increase in predicted demand, or no-one wants to buy the stuff, so none is ordered.

It's a case of 'statistics, damned statistics' and I am in no doubt that supermarkets will use poor free-range sales figures to support their status quo, on stocking, let alone promoting more ethically produced chicken, "but how can supermarkets properly assess demand, unless customers complain and ask for the products they want to buy?" I say to the woman on the customer service desk, as I fill in another of those 'we want to hear your comments' cards.
I have yet to receive any kind of response from either Tesco or Sainsbury's, despite their beguiling smallprint at the bottom of the card.

For anyone wanting an objective overview of the facts covering economic and ethical considerations, you could do worse than take a look at how the soil association has presented the case: http://www.soilassociation.org/.

If you find that you feel strongly, then I would urge you to lend your support to the 'chicken out' campaign. Register your interest on http://www.chickenout.tv/

In the meantime, my offspring are proudly horrified at what their mother will do as part of a family shopping trip. (where each of them places me on the 'horror - pride' scale is directly attributable to the age of each child) Guess where my 'pre-teen' puts me on this scale....

http://www.dovefarm.co.uk/