Mr Crofter surveying the wrinkled iron
Pullus reps consult
The new homes and contented occupant
Oh deari me; at least the view is nice.
Pullus, the union of all good chickens had been gathering and discussing housing issues recently. The late Junior - the ex-bullock - had, in his yoof, been a rampaging oaf at times causing havoc among the superbly designed neo-le Corbusier chicken houses at the bottom of the croft. Fences had been leant on, roofs had been over-licked causing rain and snow to enter if the wind was in the wrong direction. There was nothing for it and a point had to be made to Mr Crofter. Laying was stopped and it wasn't too long before Mr Crofter got the point - no boiled egg for breaki just didn't seem right.
So, Mr Crofter and Dad Crofter rummaged around in the red van/shed and found a few sheets of wrinkled iron [or whatever its called], collected a few metres of wood and in no time the new chicken homes were springing up on the croft - wind proof, water-proof, cow-proof and with a fantastic view across the Minch.
Amazing what a bit of Union power can do.