Catch of the day...

Ken loves fishing and while his forte is surfcasting from the beach, living as we do just 100 yards away  from a good trout river in the Rangiteiki, which is open all year round, as opposed to the Whirinaki, which is not, means he'll be just as likely to be out angling there as anywhere. I will often see him poring over what flies to take, which spinner might work this time and of course, the prerequisite rod and landing net. The net is relatively new, as he accidentally left his old one under the bridge of a favourite fishing spot and when he went back to retrieve it, naturally it was nowhere to be seen. He is gently ribbed by family and friends bout the amount of bait he uses which never seems to catch anywhere near the equivalent weight of fish.
And so, on that note, it was understandable that prior to today, it hadn't caught much.
But I'll guarantee no other net of this type will catch as many, or as heavy per catch, as it did in the last hour.
It was a lovely sunny afternoon and I thought I'd let the chooks out in the orchard for the first time. The 20 shavers and 10 plymouth barred rocks needed some extra greens and I had depleted much of the silverbeet and lettuce stocks in recent weeks.
So, out they went  in late afternoon, the reasoning being that they could get themselves back into their roosts easily enough. But it soon became obvious that the little fluffbags were not happy just being in the orchard, they thought it was a free ticket to explore the rest of the farm - and the neighbour's - as well. This we couldn't have, so after just half an hour, we began the time-honoured tradition between free-range chooks and their owners of taking a pan of feed, rattling it against the sides and calling out, 'Here, chook, chook, chook - here chook, chook, chook" and waiting for our precious feathered friends to come racing back to the henhouse.
Well, it started off fine, the shavers knew what those words were.

They were, for the most, happy to run like miniature lopsided lorries back into the big  run our chooks call home. But the 10 pbr's were having a whale of a time thank you very much and going back in for their night time feed, just was not on the agenda.
So, Ken, myself and Ken's sister Bev stepped in as wanna-be shepherds and started trying to herd the avian monsters (yes, they are big!) back into the run, whilst at the same time keeping the shavers, who are naturally nosey, from getting back out. Talk about the chicken cha-cha.

Much, much easier said that done. We cajoled, threatened, bribed and otherwise did everything else we could think of to get the grey striped stinkers back into the run. But no. It was not happening. One would go round the apple tree, two around the pear tree and another two would skedaddle off towards the containers, which represented massive freedom - it was where the driveway ends.

Then the lightbulb went on over Ken's head and off he strode around the corner, coming back just a minute later with the big landing net.
"Think you can outwit me?" I heard him snarl under his breath as he marched on past.
At six foot tall, he has long legs. Much longer than those of the chooks who were also using their wings as airpaddles, if not actually lifting off the ground. Not that I would think they could - these are extremely well fed hens!
So, with four strides to her 25, whomph, down went the net and up came the first hen. The look on her face when he opened the gate and released her was hilarious - she  had no idea how she had managed to make that transition in 10 seconds flat!
I was keeping them together in a pack by feeding tiny minute pieces of bread, which they love above almost anything else. So the next four were despatched with the same blistering speed.
By this time, the remainder had worked out that their number was being decimated by an airborne menace and they weren't that keen on having any part of it.
It was absolutely hilarious watching Ken race around (running by this time - the hens had figured out how to (barely) fly above the grass blades) chasing after hens who were squawking their heads off. One even managed to squeeze herself through a square of hurricane fencing into the sheep paddock and look  surprised when ken walked on over that too. Having a metre or so of leg helps...

But eventually, even the last defiant one had been netted and deposited back into run.
"Do not," said my darling through gritted teeth, "Let them out again!"
I thought it best not to mention how crushed I was that no-one had had a camera handy..