Trying to get a good night's sleep at our home for waifs and strays can be very tricky! Our three cats, Lupin, Cat and Rosie, think they own the bed....and they snore! My dear unassuming husband, despite being clever, cannot find a way to stop this night time ritual. I secretly think he could, if he really wanted to.

I have tried to shut them out, but that pitiful meow just makes me cave in. I wouldn't mind, but as soon as I move, they moan at me. As strange as it might seem, I get great comfort knowing they are there, listening to their gentle purr. They ask very little of me but to feed them and to love them....and I do.

It’s that time of year again, the time when I dread driving in the rain. Well, I’m probably exaggerating a little (as writer’s often do) but January rains certainly cause a lot of anxiety in our home for waifs and strays. You see, our pond is home to many, frogs, toads and newts that use it as a yearly breeding ground. And when the rain comes in January, it sends a signal to our amphibian friends, to return to their regular pond to breed.  

      Preferring to travel in the rain, which prevents them from drying out, our little friends have to cross a deadly stretch of road that runs through our village.  I have spent hours (risking life and limb) helping these fascinating creatures to cross the road. It’s any wonder I’m not the one being squished!

     Now, my dear and unassuming husband, who is very clever, has come up with an idea. We will make signs, asking people to ‘slow down’ for frogs to cross. Meanwhile, he advised me to contact the environment agency to see if they can help. But because these little friends of ours are not in decline, there will be no urgency (I’m guessing) in doing something about it. So this leaves me with no other option, other than the posters, but to start a ‘frog patrol’ to help frogs cross the road so that nature can take  care of the rest.

Many of us are turning to meditation to help with concentration and living in the moment....so why not other animals?

In our home for waifs and strays, I have noticed that animals do indeed meditate. Our three cat’s seem to spend a lot of time staring into the fire and hardly notice when I enter the room. Our fish also appear to have ‘moments’ of looking as though they are in a trance. And on many occasions, I have seen the hens adding a touch of yoga to their meditation, by standing on one leg.

I recently joined a mediation group and instantly found that many people have minds just like mine. How can we possibly get the most out of life when our heads are spinning faster than a washing machine on full spin? So I survived the first lesson and indeed, I am now convinced that the cats, the fish and our dear hens have got the right idea.....they all live in the moment.

‘Give them an inch and they’ll take a mile!’ That’s exactly what my chickens do. But do I mind? Indeed not!

 Poor Mocha has such a short time left I didn’t worry when her friends popped in to see her. I had left the kitchen door open and in they marched. You see, chickens know when one of their own is dying. It can feel their pain and will show a display of empathy, a trait normally found in humans. I have witnessed this so many times and now it has been scientifically proven. In India, they believe a chicken will sense if its owner is stressed or ill and sometimes it can be too much for the poor animal and it dies.

Over the years I have observed many hens and found that each of them has its own personality. Some hens are shy and some are standoffish, while others are confident and fearless. They certainly have excellent memories. You can have 100 hens and each one will know where they are in the pecking order. They also remember where the fridge is in our kitchen and they will do a little dance until we open it and give them their grapes.

Chickens have 30 types of vocalization, which they use to communicate to each other and I count my blessings every time I sit and listen to them.

 I took time out today, to look at old photos from our 'home for waifs & strays' album. The memories came flooding back. Some were sad but still very memorable and always a boost on these dreary days. One particular photo made me smile and my heart flutter. Bluebell was an old hen we had taken in years before and was the most remarkable of all the hens we have ever had. She instantly became top of the pecking order and made this quite clear. Her cheeky and confident manner, always made us laugh.

Like all the other 'girls' Bluebell had her broody moments. During one particular broody time, we were asked to take in four, three day old orphaned ducklings. Again, we waited until after dark and slipped all four under bluebell....and waited with baited breath. After all, it was a lot to ask of a hen, to take four ducklings, under her wings. But to everyone’s amazement, she did. But it wasn't always easy. The ducklings grew and grew and grew until eventually they were four times the size of their surrogate mother. But Bluebell always kept them in check...until they took to the pond. Not quite understanding what had happened to her wayward brood, she struggled to cut the strings and let them go. She would watch them anxiously, shouting at them to come back...and for some time, they did as they were told. But there is a time to let go and eventually she did. Bluebell had done a fantastic job, now it was time to get back to normal....