This story begins in the year 2001, although maybe it started twenty six years before that when Alice was born. Or even before that when her parents met each other. You could say it probably started centuries ago when England was covered in thick oa...
We come back from selling charcoal in the village. My dad hangs the live chickens in the cottage. There are hooks on the wall and the chickens have their feet tied together. They hang limply after a short panic, resigned to their fate. Dad brings me outside and starts making a basket. When he finishes a few rings of the base he gives it to me to keep going. He puts dried grass and willow strips in front of me. He's making another basket and chats to me as we go.
"Aiden my boy, this will be your job. Your basket is for the chickens at night. This will be their nest box. I'll get you an old cockerel at the market tomorrow. The charcoal business isn't doing well.You can raise them for eggs and meat. I'm showing you how to make this basket so you can make as many as you need. At night you can bring them in and hang the basket inside."
Dad stops me and changes the pattern. I watch carefully.
"Just like that three more times. Watch me."
He ties it off showing me. Leaving a solid bottom with low sides and strips of willow sticking up.
"You already know how to make charcoal. But now with the mine, people don't want it anymore."
He encourages me to start another and I make it myself.
"We will still protect the forest but we will no longer coppice the trees. The village sheep will break our fences and people will cut down the trees but try your best. We will just make enough for ourselves. Or just cut firewood."
Three baskets sit side by side.
"We will make and sell as much as we can this year but we will need to sell it further from the mine."
Dad rips some straw and places it in the basket. He shows me how to close one and I copy with the other one. The finished basket now looks like a small circular cage. Dad gathers some thick twine. Grabbing the chickens from inside, he unties them and places them in one of the cages. The hens cluck in surprise, today they weren't for the pot. Tying some *1 twine on each of the chicken's right legs he feeds it through the top of the cage.
"When you let them out, tie them till they recognise you."
He shows me how to hang up the cage in the cottage. He takes a large shallow wooden bowl. He fills it with water from a bucket, placing it on the ground.
"You need to give them fresh spring water twice a day. Put a heavy rock in it to stop them tipping it over. Let's get them out, tie them here to the door. The string should allow them to scratch about and get water and to the nest box. You can give them our leftover scraps too."
They pull at the string, trying to run away, but they soon settle. Scraping about and drinking water, they forget about the twine.
"You can take them into the forest and train them to follow you. And come when called too. That's for later, we will build them their own house over the next few days."
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