‘Meet Jane, Elizabeth, Mary, Kitty and Lydia Bennet,’ he said solemnly, as he showed them the hens. ‘Ex-battery hens, taken in and lovingly restored to full health.’
‘Oh, bless them,’ Alison said. ‘How long have they been here?’
Mac shrugged. ‘Honestly, Mum rescued so many of them that it’s hard to keep track of how long these particular ones have lived here. Every time a couple of them died she adopted another two to replace them and even gave them the same name so there’s always a full contingent of the Bennet Sisters.’
‘I’ll bet they’ve been here a while,’ Rosie said, ‘since they’ve got their feathers and they’re looking really healthy and happy.’
‘They don’t live for that long, though,’ Mac admitted. ‘They tend to have a shorter lifespan than other hens, even after they’ve been rescued. But they maybe get a couple of years of freedom before they pass on, which is something.’
‘Poor little things,’ Alison said tearfully. ‘After all that suffering!’
‘You could say that, or you could say how lucky they are that they get to end their days in such happy circumstances,’ Mac pointed out. ‘Come and meet the Dickensian Ducks.’
Nancy, Estella and Peggoty were, he explained, three large white Aylesbury ducks named after Dickens’ characters.
‘They look like Jemima Puddle-Duck,’ Rosie observed, who wasn’t familiar with the works of Charles Dickens but had been a huge fan of Beatrix Potter back when she was a child.
‘I think Jemima was modelled on an Aylesbury duck,’ Alison agreed. ‘They’re so pretty, aren’t they?’
‘And very friendly and amiable,’ Mac added. ‘I was a bit wary of them at first but they’re no bother. I’m just glad Mum didn’t get any geese. I think they’re way too scary for me!’
‘They make great guard dogs, though,’ Rosie told him. ‘Well, guard geese. Better than a burglar alarm.’
They carried on to the winter fields, where the two magnificent red Highland cattle grazed.
‘Let me guess,’ Rosie said. ‘Bonnie Prince Charlie and Flora MacDonald.’
‘They’re not literary characters, though,’ Alison said. ‘Go on. Surprise us.’
Mac laughed. ‘Would you believe, Ellen MacKenzie and Jamie Fraser?’
Rosie whooped and clapped her hands. ‘At last, someone I’ve heard of!Outlander. Yay!’
‘Ellen’s Jamie’s mum, isn’t she?’ Alison asked. ‘In the books, I mean.’
‘And here, too,’ Mac told her. ‘When Mum rescued her, she was in calf, and young Jamie Fraser here arrived not long after they arrived at Watersmeet.’
‘He’s very handsome,’ Rosie said, leaning on the fence and watching the cattle admiringly. ‘Are they safe?’
‘Gentle as anything,’ Mac said. ‘Believe me, I wouldn’t be able to cope if they weren’t. They’re beautiful, aren’t they? I never thought I’d get fond of cows, but they’ve won me over.’
‘Strictly speaking,’ Rosie said smugly, ‘Ellen’s a cow, but Jamie’s a bull.’
‘Strictly speaking,’ Mac corrected her, ‘Jamie’s a bullock. That was the first thing Mum took care of, as soon as he was old enough. Come and meet the ponies and then we’ll get back inside the warmth.’
It was another lovely sunny day, but the winter sunshine struggled to provide much heat and despite the blue skies it was still cold.
‘Not as cold here as it is near the sea,’ Rosie remarked.
‘You’re not kidding,’ Alison agreed. ‘It’s quite sheltered here today in comparison. Once you get to the beach, you’ll really feel it. The wind blowing off the North Sea is biting.’
Mac frowned. ‘Are you warm enough in that caravan?’
‘Oh yes! We’ve got central heating and double glazing. It’s lovely and snug in there, don’t worry about that.’
He nodded and led them to the paddock where the two ponies immediately wandered over to introduce themselves.
‘Aw, they’re lovely,’ Alison said, rubbing the bay pony’s nose. ‘I’ve caught sight of them a few times in the distance. Your mum’s had them quite a long time, hasn’t she?’
