As she’s never clapped eyes on such a scavenger (note she’s facing the other way), she’s not doing too badly. I’m no judge, however: I’m not sure I’ve ever seen one in the flesh. They don’t hang out in Kiwiland.
Victoria’s moult is also on the way. A few of her grey feathers fluttered to the ground this afternoon and she hasn’t served up any of her green-shelled eggs for several days.
Of the flock of six, that leaves just one hen a-laying — Henemoa (left). I’ve never regarded her as especially reliable in the egg department, so it seems an apology is called for.
Sorry, Hen. And thanks. May nobody knock you off your perch.