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Welcome back to Satisfaction for Insatiable Readers.
For those of you that hail from the grand old US of A, Happy Independence Day! Best recommendation...celebrate it in a social distancing fashion because the COVID-19 numbers are still on the rise, and it's better to be safe right now, than sorry. Anywho...today, we've teamed up with Rachel's Random Resources to bring you their latest tour and we've not only got a uniquely titled work, but an excerpt from same said work! Ready? Set? Read all about it...
Fresh Eggs and Dog Beds 2:
Still Living the Dream in Rural Ireland
by
Nick Albert
Ant Hill Press
About the book...
Nick and Lesley's desire for a better life in the countryside was a long-held dream. Unforeseen events and a leap of faith forced that dream into reality, but moving to rural Ireland was only the beginning of their story.
Foreigners in a foreign land, they set about making new friends, learning the culture and expanding their collection of chickens and unruly dogs. But their dream home was in desperate need of renovation, a mammoth task they attacked with the aid of a DIY manual, dwindling funds and incompetent enthusiasm. With defunct diggers, collapsing ladders, and shocking electrics, what could possibly go wrong?
Will their new life live up to expectations, or will the Irish weather, dangerous roads, and a cruel twist of fate turn this dream into a nightmare?
AMAZON
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!!! EXCERPT !!!
An exclusive extract from Fresh Eggs and Dog Beds 2, written by bestselling author Nick Albert and published by Ant Press.
Although Nick and Lesley Albert moved to Ireland on a whim, their desire for a better life in the countryside was a long-held dream. Unforeseen events and a leap of faith forced that dream into reality, but getting to Ireland was only the beginning of their story.
Now foreigners in a foreign land, they set about making new friends, learning the culture and expanding their collection of chickens and unruly dogs. But their dream home was in desperate need of renovation, a mammoth task they attacked with the aid of a DIY manual, dwindling funds and incompetent enthusiasm. With defunct diggers, collapsing ladders, and shocking electrics, what could possibly go wrong?
In this scene, Nick and Lesley have decided to add some new faces to their flock of chickens.
With a larger pen at our disposal, we had decided to double our flock. Six chickens were not exactly extreme farming, but nonetheless, these were exciting times!
I collected the box from the car and carried it to the coop, where Lesley was waiting, along with Little, Nugget and Drumstick, who were patrolling the wire and hoping for a tasty treat. When we entered the cage, Lesley sprinkled some wild bird seed at one end of the enclosure, while I carefully placed the open box at the other end. Being the dominant hen, Nugget excitedly barged through the crowd and began selecting the best seeds to eat. Confident there was enough food to go around, the more laid-back Little casually sauntered along, pecking unhurriedly at whatever happened to be nearby. And the ever-friendly Drumstick, ignored the seed and squatted at Lesley’s feet, with her neck arched and wings splayed, hoping to receive a fuss.
At the opposite end of the cage, I was trying, somewhat unsuccessfully, to introduce our new chickens to their future home. Although they had been unceremoniously shoved into the box by the Chicken Lady, the hens now appeared to regard it as home. Aside from that brief moment of curiosity while I was walking through Dunnes, these new hens were showing no interest in leaving the secure warmth of their cardboard box. One of them had even laid an egg. I put it in my jacket pocket, making a mental note to avoid creating an accidental omelette.
“They don’t want to come out,” I said to Lesley.
“You’ll have to pick them up.”
“Owww!” I squealed. “One of them nipped me.”
“They’re probably not used to being handled,” my wife said. “They might be a little defensive for a while.”
“You think?” I mumbled, sucking the blood from the back of my hand.
“Tip the box a bit,” she suggested.
I did. There was a scrabbling sound, but the chickens remained in situ.
“Give it a shake,” she advised.
I did. Again, nothing happened. I imagined the chickens linking arms and bracing their feet against the walls as they fought against the law of gravity. Tipping the box upside-down, I gave it a violent shake. Their makeshift home suddenly became three chickens lighter. There was a squawk, and an ominous thud.
“They’re out,” I said casually.
At the sudden appearance of three interlopers to her territory, Nugget spun around, fluffed up her feathers to appear as large as possible, and eyed them suspiciously. At the same time, Drumstick hid behind Lesley’s legs, peering out uncertainly. The ever-casual Little just shrugged in indifference and continued feeding. The untidy pile of new hens quickly sorted themselves into a sub-flock, with legs at the bottom and heads at the top. For a couple of minutes they pecked about uncertainly. Then, as if by common consent, they huddled into a group and sat down in a patch of damp mud.
“They’re probably not used to being outside,” Lesley observed.
I tried waving my arms and shooing them along, but they just hunkered down and glared at me accusingly.
“Perhaps if we leave them for a while, they’ll relax a bit and join the others,” I suggested.
“I guess so,” Lesley shrugged. We went indoors.
A little later, it began to rain. I checked on our new chickens several times throughout the afternoon, hoping they had integrated into the flock, but they remained stubbornly huddled in a group, looking sullen and damp. Around dusk, I checked again. Nugget, Little and Drumstick had gone to roost in the coop, but the new chickens were still sitting in the same puddle. I couldn’t leave them outdoors all night, at the mercy of foxes, pine martens and owls. There was nothing for it, I would have to move them into the coop by hand.
“Oh, now you decide to run about!” I growled as the chickens scattered before me.
If I could only herd them into the caged part of the coop, then I could shut the door. The hens would still be wet and a little cold, but safe from predators. They may even climb the ladder and roost with the other hens. Using a slow walk combined with some cooing and a little gentle arm flapping, I set about herding the group of hens towards the coop. We almost made it, but at the last moment, Nugget descended the ladder to investigate the kerfuffle. In an instant, the flock split apart, moved to opposite corners of the cage, and eyed me suspiciously. Happy her work was done, Nugget returned to her bed.
For the next ten minutes I chased our new hens through a succession of geometric shapes. We did squares with rounded corners, straight lines, a trapezoid, a convex octagon and finished with a very pretty irregular decagon, all without ever getting my stretched fingers within an inch of a tail feather. Eventually, I tired of walking like an ape under a low tree and gave the whole idea up as a bad job.
Indoors, my wife glanced up from the chicken husbandry book she was reading and eyed her mud-speckled husband.
“Leave them until it gets dark,” she said, tapping the page with her finger.
And she was right. In complete darkness, aided only by the failing glow from my bicycle lamp, I was able to pick up each hen in turn and transfer them to the safety of the roost, without so much as a squawk or ruffled feather. In the morning, all six chickens were feeding and scrapping at the earth as if they were lifelong friends.
“Shall we call them Faith, Hope, and Charity?” Lesley suggested.
“That’s not what I called them last night,” I growled.
“Be kind,” she chided, nudging me in the ribs.
And so, despite the fact that they all looked identical, our new hens acquired names.
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About the author...
Nick Albert was born in England and raised in a Royal Air Force family. After leaving College he worked in retail management for several years before moving into financial services where he quickly progressed through the ranks to become a training consultant. As a very passionate and reasonably talented sportsman, Nick had always wanted to use his training skills towards creating a parallel career, so in the mid 1980's he qualified and began coaching sport professionally. After a health scare in 2003 and in search of a simpler life, he and his wife Lesley, cashed in their investments, sold their home and bought a rundown farmhouse in the rural west of Ireland - a country they had never before even visited. With little money or experience and armed only with a do-it-yourself manual, they set about renovating their new home, where they now live happily alongside a flock of chickens, two ducks and several unruly, but delightful dogs.
In 2017 Nick was signed to Ant Press to write a series of humorous memoirs about his life in rural Ireland. Fresh Eggs and Dog Beds (book one) was published in September 2017 and soon became an Amazon bestseller. Book two in the series was published on 1st June 2018 and book 3 in August 2019. Book four is due out in 2020.
Nick is also the author of the twisty thriller, Wrecking Crew, the first in a series of books featuring reluctant hero Eric Stone.
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Special thanks to Rachel at Rachel's Random Resources for the chance to bring this tour to you. (THANKS!) For more information on this title, the author, this promotion, or those on the horizon, feel free to click through the links provided above. Be sure to check out the rest of tour for more bookish fun!
Until next time, remember...if it looks good, READ IT!
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