Over the stable door: Hen nights and ruffled feathers

Apologies if I am starting to sound like a cracked record, but this episode has outraged me enough to justify the repetition. The poultry hut has suffered yet further loss. Henny, the new silkie Felix purchased only two weeks ago, was found huddled in a muddy pile on Tuesday. She had been mauled by a dog on the footpath and was still warm. The culprit had taken a few mouthfuls before scarpering, along with the owner.
By The Newsroom
Published 3rd Oct 2010, 21:20 BST
Updated 3rd Oct 2010, 21:21 BST

I realised shock treatment would be the only remedy to prevent this recurrent problem. So I parked Felix's wheelbarrow on the footpath. In it was the fluffy yellow hen's maimed body and a note asking for some respect to be shown by dog walkers when passing the farm. Keeping their animals on a lead would prevent further heartbreak for all of us.

I left it for two days before Henny began to smell a little unsavoury, so a funeral was hastily arranged. The pet graveyard is becoming somewhat overcrowded.

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Talking of poultry I am looking forward to a friend's hen party in November. Normally I am the reluctant attendee of these embarrassing rituals, complete with the tacky sex toys and L plates. But this is promising to be a party with a difference. The location is the Cheltenham Open meeting, three days of fantastic racing, with accommodation in easy reach of the nightlife.

As part of her wedding present, I have entered the hen in the Greatwood charity flat race held on the final day of the meeting and run over one mile five furlongs. She will be aboard one of my horses, possibly Winged Farasi. Along with fellow competitors, she has to raise 2,500 to take part. All the money will go to Greatwood, a racing welfare charity helping children with special needs to learn life skills by interaction with horses. A worthy cause and a hen party I keenly anticipate.

The hen is ecstatic and taking the whole thing extremely seriously. She has booked a personal trainer and regular sessions on my wooden horse, so her whip action should be near perfect by the time the race is upon us. The chance of riding up the Cheltenham hill in front of 20,000 racegoers may just tip the scales in favour of resisting copious amounts of alcohol that weekend.

I'm hoping my gift has got us out of wearing the bunny ears, fluorescent fairy skirts and any other surprises previously in the pipeline, otherwise I won't be in the paddock to give her a leg up.

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My friend and fellow jockey, Sam Drake, has just returned from working in New Zealand for the summer.

She got a job as stable jockey to a trainer on the South Island who had broken his leg in a fall. Sam took over his rides and enjoyed numerous placings over hurdles before she too had a race fall, just two months into her stay. She broke her wrist and severed some ligaments, curtailing her dreams of riding in the grand finale jump weekend she had qualified for. "The worst thing is next time my horse ran, it won," she told me regretfully.

Still intending to make the most of her stay, she learnt to snowboard with her arm in pot before starting the 31-hour journey home.

"They aren't too bothered by health and safety out there," she grinned. "The instructor said my pot worked better than a wrist guard when I fell over."

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Sam is back home and probably trying to muck out her pointers one-handed by now.

Anyone interested in donating to the Greatwood charity please email Jo on [email protected]

Jo Foster trains horses at Brookleigh Farm, Menston.