We have a horse chestnut tree that was planted in the corner of our yard. Our friend Jack had grown the tiny sprout in a pot from a conker - he could only have been 8 or 9 at the time -and now he is in his early twenties. Needless to say the tree has grown as well as Jack and is now competing with a huge fir tree for daylight.

The sticky buds at the bottom are still sticky and tight, but the buds at the top are bursting open daily. It reminded Mum of when she was at school many, many years ago. (We think Mum is even older than Harvest). The topic was 'Spring' and the story had to be supported by exhibits. Out of the class of 30 eight-year olds, the teacher selected three of the most entertaining ones, these having achieved a Gold Star. To Mum's utter horror her story had gained this high accolade and she was summoned to the front of the classroom and stood in a line waiting to read her tale out. This had never happened before and Mum was terrified, her not being one to put her hand up even. The time came and Mum read her story about storing Sticky Buds behind the settee and how they somehow rubbed against the bottom of the curtain, leaving black marks that could not be persuaded to be removed in spite of frantic and secretive efforts. The class giggled. It was going well. Mum could hear her voice outside of her body going through the motions of reading the now infamous Sticky Bud Tale. She felt hot, very hot. Then the class clapped and Mrs Weir said that it sounded almost true - had it really happened? Mum was able to nod weakly before fainting. She tottered forwards, then tottered backwards  and quite quickly and conveniently fell into the waste paper bin with the pencil sharpenings and screwed up balls of paper. The class liked that. And there she sat until retrieved by Mrs Weir.
Ten years later Mum started work at the Auctioneers and Cattle Market in Haywards Heath. From an all girls school to being one of the first female auctioneers' clerks to work outside was quite a change, shall we say. And as such Mum was immediately part and parcel of a lot of fun and ribaldry. Lets just keep to the bin theme here - there are far too many other tales to tell - and some best not to tell.
The grand and sturdy building that was the offices of  T. Bannister & Co was on the opposite side of the road from the railway station. For good reason in olden days. The Market offices were up two flights of stairs and a large bay window looked across the road on a level with Platform 1. Market Day was Tuesday and Wednesday meant a lot of office work. Time to have a bit of fun first though. Anyway to cut a long story short Mum ended up in the waste paper basket, her bottom sunk to the base and the rest of her body unable to manoevre. She was placed on the large wooden table in front of the bay window, the floor having been scattered liberally with drawing pins first. Then - Hey Presto! The blind was lifted and all the commuters on Platform 1 saw Mum in her basket. The funny thing was the platform cleared as if by magic. People jostled for a space in the rest room and hid behind the iron supports - within seconds Platform 1 was empty! And she had to stay there until it was deemed time enough to rescue her.
Mum says that luckily there probably won't be a third time as she wouldn't fit in a waste paper bin now! Gordon x

We have had a couple of beautiful sunny and dry days and the daffodils and blossom on the trees are looking really lovely. The water level on the pond has dropped because we have had no rain for over a week and we stared in to look for the frogspawn, which we couldn't find at all. Hopefully Mr and Mrs Duck haven't gobbled it up. Here are the photos that Kizzie took last week - the long strings of eggs are the toadspawn.

Most of my Lady Friends are laying eggs now and Dad goes round each night with a tray collecting them up and on some, writing code on one end. We watch him to see if he discovers all the ones we have hidden.
Just a quick word about Lent, too. I think we've been diddled - it is still 27 days to go before Easter Sunday and I have not had a sip of Quail Ale for 19 days. What happened to 40 Days and 40 Nights? I might be sounding more and more like a Grumpy Old Cock, but what with the Spring Equinox and now Lent, I think someone has got the dates wrong this year!  Gordon x

This morning Mrs Buzz flew silently over the big field, her wings steadily and rhythmically guiding her towards the trees,  and a lone crow mocked her. She flew on unconcerned and as no friends came to join him he very soon went about his business again. The Lapwings rose in a fountain from the middle - from still and quiet to a crescendo of aerobatic calls and dances. Mr and Mrs Fox had left dewy prints in the morning grass around the edge of the field, a well used path to the rabbits' bank. The oak and ash buds are tightly shut and look as if they will stay that way forever!
The blackthorn bushes have clusters of buds waiting in the wings. There can often be a cold end to March. Three years ago the Easter weekend in late March was marked by a hefty snowfall that produced a winter wonderland. This cold spell was so common in the past that it used to be called the “blackthorn winter”, when ancient folklore described how the blossom of blackthorn bushes appeared during mild weather, only to be destroyed by a cold snap at the end of March. Maybe the blackthorn knows we aren't out of the woods yet.
The cold closing days of March were also known as borrowed days, as one rhyme goes:
March borrowed from April
Three days and they were ill.
The first was snow and sleet,
The next was cold and wet,
The third was such a freeze
The birds’ nests stuck to trees.

There are bleak folklore tales about the end of March across much of Europe. In Ireland, the legend of borrowed days describes a cow that complained about the harshness of March weather. The month of March took exception to this and borrowed a few wet and stormy days from April to teach the cow a lesson. Lois told us that she wasn't going to say a word! Gordon x
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Just a quick Hello from me! I am still having a lovely time with Martin and the girls. He is most attentive to our needs and we are starting to lay eggs in our cosy nest box. Dad seems very pleased with us too. It won't be long before I am back exploring with Gordon again. But I am quite sure he is very capable of keeping you up to date with the news!
Lots of Love Sylvia xxx

Well Spring is officially here - so the man on the News said. He also said it begins today (although I think it was yesterday) and there are equal hours of daylight and dark. Now, as I have said before, I am no scholar nor scientist, but I know that I start crowing at 05.30 when it gets light and go to bed at 18.30 when it is getting dark. On my reckoning that means I am up for 13 hours and on my perch for 11. Which leads me to thinking that the Spring Equinox probably happened a week or so ago and that the Autumn Equinox happens after the 22nd-ish of  September - at least where I live!  I suppose that somewhere it is more or less 12 hours equally divided today.
Yesterday my friends and I spent a most enjoyable time rooting and exploring. We uncovered the first violets in the dry leaves on the bank and spent a good couple of hours counting primrose petals in the primrose patch. They usually have five petals, but sometimes have six - or more. It is very rare to find four. So we had a competition and Mrs Pippy found a whole plant of primroses, half of which had six petals. We awarded her the prize. Then Truffle bustled through with a fuss and a noise and made us follow her to a small root with only three blossoms on - one of which had just four petals! We were in awe! But on careful inspection it looked rather as if one had been awkwardly removed - as if by a yank of a beak. We eyed it suspiciously and moved on.
We went to the pond too and around the edges were lots of frogs and toads. Doing what frogs and toads do at this time of the year. There were clumps of frogspawn that had risen to the suface to catch the warmth of  the sunshine and strings of eggs wound around the stems of the water weed - toadspawn. One of the frogs had red legs and arms and matched the clay soil perfectly. We asked Kizzie to take a photo for our diary and she precariously tottered over the busyness - we will show you if it is clear enough, the light on the water was very bright.
Have a good Monday everyone! Gordon x

Today started off very cold and frosty indeed. But the sun shone through and it is actually quite warm now.

Harvest and I jostled for the first patch of sunshine on the straw - she plonked her rather large form down and as it takes her a while to shift now, I had to move to a rather inferior position, but nonetheless, still in the sunshine.
Mum is walking a bit more normally today. She and Harvey were having a lovely outing in the fields last week and they had been digging and sniffing, but then Harvey spotted the Black Pheasant cock strutting across the big field. We call him Black Philip. Now normally Harvey takes no notice of BP whatsoever, but on this occasion he decided to bolt after him at super-speed. Mum was caught unawares and as he extended to 30 miles an hour on the end of his long lead, he took Mum with him. She flew through the air and landed face first in the earth, bobbing along through the ruts and footprints left by the hunt. She stopped when her nose dug into a large hoofprint and the back of her neck bent upwards in a strange triangle shape. Never one to let go, Mum rose unceremoniously and said to Harvey in a rather breathless voice "Wait for me". Pretty pointless that, I reckon. Harvey wondered what on earth Mum was doing with her hat over her face and grass hanging out of her mouth. A new sport perhaps?
It is actually Harvey's birthday today and we have all clubbed together to buy him a pink rabbit and a squeaky bone. The bone is well built, but we give the rabbit three and a half minutes! Here he is relaxing on his big day:

At home in the cottage, Strawberry the Cat lives with my family. She is quite old now and very wise and definately in charge! Kizzie had her when she was a baby kitten. Dad saw a notice on the side of a road in the next village that said Kittens For Sale. Her Mum was a dear little black and white cat and her Dad was a big Tabby Farm cat. Strawberry is a tabby with white paws and a white chest.
And tonight we have to look at the moon - it was very bright last night and I didn't get to sleep for ages. But if it isn't cloudy it will be even bigger and even brighter, Truffle told us. I'm not sure I like the Full Moon - it makes some of my friends go a bit nutty bananas. Gordon x

It is a misty morning again, but not too chilly. A bit of breeze and at last the daffodils that are facing the north are starting to slowly open. We heard the first skylarks this morning and we now have six white pigeons moved into the nearby barn. They were cooing softly - a very pleasant contrast to the harsh caw of the rooks and crows nearby.

So recently I have been contemplating on, and trying to encompass new technology - and have signed up to Lacechook - sorry! Facebook. 
I really wasn't sure what I was going to get myself into, and I suppose I really wanted it to be a page that would lead people back to our Sebright website, but all of a sudden I have many new friends from all over the place! It is wonderful. I can read their news and see pictures of their chicks and farms. Thank you all so much for letting me be your friend.
I put McFly down as one of my favourite groups too - and they started leaving me messages, so I took them off again as I didn't want to embarrass them if they ever found out that they were writing to a chicken!
I rushed round to tell Sylvia this evening and I really don't think she believed me! Trouble is, Bruce overheard us talking and now he wants a page. I think I successfully persuaded him otherwise, but had to promise that he could have his picture in our diary - so here it is: Bruce the Brahma!    Gordon x

This morning is warm - really quite warm. At least compared to the last two mornings. Gone is the frost and the sun is pushing through a still and misty veil. The blossom on the wild plum trees is opening its delicate white flowers and on lots of the other trees the leaf buds are glowing a vibrant green, ready to burst open any day. The Ash and the Oak are still tight shut - but they wait a bit longer.
The rooks and crows are squabbling in the tree tops over a single stick that has been brought into the vicinity. Peter and his family are dashing about manically and we even saw Mr & Mrs Buzzard twitterpating in the top of the big Ash at the weekend. It is all go!

Sylvia and Sophia are spending time with Martin and some of their other family and friends. They seem very happy with this and Dad collected two eggs yesterday from their nestbox. I don't think Sylvia got her Bubblewrap bed - but she quite likes the soft hay.

Martin seems a bit pre-occupied and at least he isn't trying to tempt me down The Pooch and Pullet at the moment.
My Gold Sebright friends and family are also busying around together. Dad collected two eggs from them yesterday too. These eggs will go home with Dad to his cottage and he puts them in a nice warm incubator. And if all goes well, in a couple of weeks we should have some new baby chicks! Gordon x

So Lent beginneth! And for forty days and forty nights we should try and give up something.  Tricky.
Kizzie has given up chocolate and Mum has given up alcoholic drink. Dad hasn't got involved. So I was wondering what I should forgo? After careful consideration I decided that although I very much enjoy the occasional half of Quail Ale and packet of Grub and Maggot crisps down the Pooch & Pullet with Bruce and the boys, I could probably do without that. Funny thing is, I seem to have other things on my mind just recently.
Kizzie calls it being "Twitterpated". Friend Owl in Bambi told Flower, Bambi and Thumper about it, so Kizzie explained. It happens in the springtime and Friend Owl said that you begin to get weak in the knees. "Then your head's in a whirl. And then you feel light as a feather, and before you know it, you're walking on air. And then you know what? You're knocked for a loop, and you completely lose your head!" It actually
sounds very much like I feel after a half of Quail Ale anyway! Gordon x

Mum came round searching for our hidden eggs today - she rooted in the bales and the logshed and didn't manage to find them all! Haa! Apparently it is Pancake Day and we are supposed to eat all the leftovers before Lent begins tomorrow. No problem. And we will deal with Lent, whatever that is, tomorrow. In Scotland they roll finely ground wetted meal into a pancake shape and then roast it in the hot ashes from a mill kiln. It is called a 'Festy Cock'. I'm jolly glad that I'm not in Scotland on Shrove Tuesday as Mum sometimes calls me that name in the mornings! Gordon x