27. Apr, 2014

Against all odds!

Dear Readers,

 Recently, I have been asked by quite a few people, if I could write some fictional stories and post them on this page. I have thought about this and will give it at try this week. The stories will be a mixture of genres and probably based in and around a fictional village in Gower.

     Tales from our home for waifs and strays will continue in-between and I would like to say a huge thank you to all of my followers. Tonight’s tale is about Featherpin, who was rescued from the battery farm.

Kindest regards

Jill

 

I stopped the engine and in the dimly lit light, looked down at her lifeless body. Her warm blood, stained my hands as I checked for a heartbeat. She was barely alive but alive nonetheless. Something moved inside my jacket, reminding me that there were others but none as poorly as Featherpin.

         The memories of that night can still evoke fear and anger as well as excitement and relief. It changed my life and the lives of a hundred battery hens.

         Although I was a nurse, nothing had prepared me for the type of nursing some of the hens required. However, Featherpin was my biggest challenge. It was quite obvious that she wanted to survive, simple because she hadn’t died, despite all the odds stacked against her.

          As the summer stretched out, it was soon time to set Featherpin free. My kind and unassuming husband and I watched as she almost tip toed over the grass of her new home. From her safe house, she could see and hear the others, but for the time being, a wire fence protected her. She would need a good coat of feathers to endure the pecking order. And of course, there was also Gilbert the Great.

           Sandwich was a regular visitor to the safe house, and I am sure that she remembered her dear friend Featherpin. After all, they had shared the same cell, in the jail they called the battery farm. By late summer, the two were put together and slowly, they all became one big happy family.

           Although Featherpin lived for just two more summers, they were the best two summers a hen could wish for.

Never to be forgotten.