tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3566640137599801263.post5737354712042259650..comments2024-02-23T22:53:19.212+13:00Comments on stoatspring: Bantamsharveyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06635635962581840889noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3566640137599801263.post-51698187719419193552010-11-18T17:37:20.955+13:002010-11-18T17:37:20.955+13:00Lovely stories. It made me remember our bantams, a...Lovely stories. It made me remember our bantams, also in Christchurch. My mother was a widow and kept them for eggs and meat. We had up to 15 or so at a time, including one that was my pet bantam (called, inevitably, Henrietta). Mum used to buy fertile eggs from somewhere and I remember watching at night as she sneaked out with a torch and slipped them under a sleepily muttering chook. I was about four or five, I suppose.<br />A less pleasant memory was seeing one running headless around the back yard, blood spurting from its neck stump, before flopping dead. Mum had no compunction about taking the axe to them when she wanted to cook a chicken. She was a woman of considerable fortitude.Alexiahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15405656530899442354noreply@blogger.com