Friday the 13th
Posted by Fiona Nevile in Cottage tales | 45 comments
photo: Mrs Boss on the nest again
My stepfather had an uncle who always stayed in bed on Friday the 13th .
“The whole day?” Aged nine, I was amazed.
“Yes, all day. He also used evaporated milk in his tea. To avoid too many trips to the shops, I expect.”
My stepfather never revealed the name of this uncle but I had a clear picture of him. Firstly the bed. An single iron bedstead with stretchy mattress (no wife would put up with the evaporated milk). The carpet slippers nestling on the lino under the bed ready for shuffling trips to the kitchen. The chipped teapot, its belly scorched with the patina of years of tea making (leaves not bags). Endless bachelor suppers of Fray Bentos tinned pies and cans of mushy peas.
Each Friday the 13th I think about this nameless eccentric uncle. As the years roll by I become more and more intrigued by this character. Did he ring in sick every Friday the 13th when he was working? Or did he take it as annual leave. Studying the calendar and marking these days off with big round rings. And how did he pass his day? Somehow I sense an old radio beside the bed and him dressed in pyjamas (the ones with the cotton trouser ties) leafing through a pile of copies of the local free newspaper that he had carefully put in a convenient pile beside the front door over the preceding weeks.
I’m always a bit apprehensive about Friday the 13th. Although I have survived them for over fifty years.
This morning I went down to the chicken run and I opened the door. As always, I counted the flock as they erupted into the run. One was missing.
I opened the roof of the nesting box and discovered Mrs Boss had died in the night. One wing was stretched out over the nest of eggs.
She was a great favourite of ours and mother to broods of guinea fowl, runner ducks and chickens.
Like my stepfather’s uncle she stayed in bed on Friday the 13th but just didn’t wake up.
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Anyone who loves pavlova as much as Pamela should mosey on down to Peacocks Tea Room by the riverside in Ely where I had the best ever blackcurrant pavlova last year (guess you might have to wait till later in the year when the fruit’s in season). Sally Riley does lots of the cooking – her food is ambrosial – but she’s really a potter and her work’s on show at the Old Fire Engine House gallery in Ely till the end of the month. So if you fancy an afternoon out in Ely…
So sad to hear about Mrs B and sympathise with you and Danny, hubby and me woke on Feb 19th to find our baby cat ( not even 3) dead on the stairs, the shock of having one of the family taken whilst you sleep is something that tears into the soul and makes you question your own fragile existence.
RIP to Mrs B and our baby boy Tigz
Hello Philippa
We do miss Mrs Boss. The flock seems so different without her. I expect they’re all a bit rattled, just like us.
Thanks so much for dropping by.
Hello Wendy
Well Mrs Squeaky Clean is not broody. I got that wrong, I’m afraid. But she is very chirpy, even though she seems to have dropped down the pecking order since Mrs Boss’s demise.
I time things will settle.
Meanwhile we have new plans for the ‘productive area’ of the garden. A separate guinea fowl enclosure. Extending the veg patch (this will mean digging up some of the mature rose border but what the heck) and possibly another run for our main flock so that they can have summer and winter quarters. This cuts down the incidence of disease and lets the ground rest for six months a year.
I was going to ask you about Mrs. Squeaky-Clean. Have just read your reply to a comment that she may be going broody – fingers crossed. x
Fiona:
So sorry to hear about Mrs Boss. She had given you so much and I am sure is sorely missed. So touching that she should have been guarding eggs at the end.
Philippa in New York
Hello Steve
Thanks for such a heartening comment – I’m blushing now!
Hi Rachel
We miss her. The hens are pets and Mrs Boss had such character.
The youngsters have now taken her place on the perch and I have a feeling that Mrs Squeeky is going broody.
Hello Veronica
Thanks for dropping by.
The flock seems awfully flat without Mrs Boss.
I don’t think you should be embarrassed either, Fiona. Animals do touch our lives and become part of the family. And I’m sad about it without even having _met_ Mrs Boss!
Goodness Fiona!
I haven’t been by for a few days. I’m sorry to hear Mrs Boss has passed on.
I don’t think it’s at all embarrassing to mourn an animal of any kind. They get into you heart and become part of your family, and there’s no getting away from that.
Love to both you and Danny
Hi Fiona,
One thing that has “stuck in my mind” since i first found your blog is the “down to earth -everyday honesty” in all the stories that you tell.
Even in the aftermath of this disaster(when you must be feeling so low) you have taken the time and the forethought to read and reply to every comment!
This is the personal touch that makes your blog No1 in my “Favorites”list.
Thankyou!
steve
Hi Steve
The shock has stunned us. She was such a great character and taught us so much about keeping chickens.
Dear Casalba
We were so lucky to have a hen like Mrs Boss.
Hello Wendy
Yes Mrs Boss left this planet four up from the bottom of the pecking order. She was rushing to eat fresh grass at the door of the run one morning and the next day she was dead.
She did have an interesting life. And starred in two movies.
Hello KJ
Yes I loved writing about Mrs Boss. She was a joy to describe as she had so much go and was stubborn as hell. Watching her with her chicks was always so moving.
Hi Michelle
I know that Mrs Boss had guts. Even when she was at the bottom of the pecking order she would always push the boundaries a bit. I’m sure that she sensed that she was a favourite!
Hello Spidra Webster
Great that you are reading the blog. Thanks for leaving a comment. She was my favourite too.
Hello Belinda
We are really upset too. It was a shock.
Hi Carla
Mrs Boss had such personality and a really eventful life. I imagine that the young cockerel Beatyl is missing her although he has Hope for company as she’d been hanging out with them recently.
Hello Lindsay
I was so sorry to hear about your knees. And on the verge of Junior Wimbledon. You must have been completely devastated. A big hug and thanks for sharing.
Hello Magic Cochin
Yes she was a star. I never imagined that I’d love a chicken ?
Hi Veronica
Yes we’re upset. Somehow Mrs Boss got right under our skin and we imagined that she would go on for ever.
Hi Natasha
She was a great mother hen to the guinea fowl, runner ducks and bantam chicks. Se was a scruffy, eccentric little hen but we loved her determination and go.
Hi Allotment Blogger
I’ll never forget how happy Mrs Boss was when she moved into her own space (studio flat with pocket handkerchief garden) – the Emerald Castle.
She had a good life in the end, I hope.
Hello Pamela
I loved reading your preamble responses!
You are right the legacy of Mrs Boss lives on.
There is no hen in the flock to take over her role. Perhaps Hope will go broody? But even if she does, she might not be good with the chicks.
We are having a major rethink.
Hello Heidi
Yes I know I’m avoiding spending too much time around the run as I’m missing Mrs Boss.
Dear Amanda
It’s been a bit of a bumpy ride recently. Three hens dead within a few months. We loved Mrs Boss as she was a real grafter. Thanks for dropping by.
Hi Rose
I loved writing abut her too. She was a dream chicken to write about. A real character that I could both battle and empathise with. A hen with attitude!
Hello Webwitch
I’m so pleased that her end was peaceful. She deserved that.
Hi Annie
Thanks for taking the trouble to leave a comment. Much appreciated.
Hello Caroline
It’s late now and I’m feeling a bit weepy about Mrs Boss. She was as comfortable as an old Wellington boot.
Over the years our flock has taught me so much about life.
Hi Jo
Yes, Mrs Boss went in her sleep. And that was a mercy.
So very sad to hear about the still born kid and the kid with the deformed legs – that must have been the last straw. Poor you. So pleased that you have a healthy female kid.
Lets hope that you are lucky with your kids this year with more females than males (as most of the latter have to go for slaughter).
Yes, Mrs Boss went in her sleep. And that was a mercy.
Hi Chris
Yes the wing outstretched over the eggs was so touching.
Hello Sebbie
I really miss this little muddy hen. But as you say her death was as dramatic and surprising as her life!
Hello Small Pines
I agree with you. Eccentric uncles are a must. I’d just add unusual chickens to the mix ?
Hi KarenO
Thanks for leaving a comment. Really pleased that you enjoyed the uncle tale.
The death of Mrs Boss was a deep shock to us too. We miss her enormously.
Dear Alice
Thanks so much for leaving a comment.
We loved Mrs Boss. She was special.
Please come to lunch when you are next over. We miss you more than Mrs B.
Lots of love
Bob and Dim
Hi Jopan
Yes, I’m a bit embarrassed but I’m mourning Mrs Boss. So is Danny.
I never ever thought tat I would be fond of a chicken.
Thanks for dropping by.
Hi Sara
Yes we’re missing her too. She was such a special hen.
Hi Jill
Thanks for leaving a comment. She’ll live in my memory too. Gutsy rather than glamorous but a huggable hen at the end of the day.
Hello Moonroot
So pleased that you enjoyed reading about Mrs Boss.
The wing was so poignant. So typical – gentle and loving.
But that was Mrs Boss.