His thoughts turned to the competition tomorrow, the years of travelling up and down the country, his advancing years and the fact that he had nothing to prove anymore to his fellow breeders. His hens had always done well at every show he competed in over the years.
No one had ever come close to to his winning record or achievements.
He was still considered overall the top breeder in the country, hence the rivalry amongst some of the other breeders.

All the competing and travelling over the years had taken its toll. He was tired and felt worn out. He also had a farm to run and could no.longer manage to juggle his workload.
He had decided this was his last show. He was going to retire from the world of competing at the top.
He could bow out gracefully and devote more time to his farm and pursue some leisurely activities he never had time for.
He loved fishing and he wanted to take up bowls at his local bowling club.
He would now have the time.
His mind was made up, retirement and a lighter workload.
He had worked hard for over fifty years and it was time for him to enjoy life.
The years had flown by without him even noticing. The farm was his life. He had a few close friends he had known all his life.
They had been good and loyal friends over the years and he knew he could count on them and vice versa.

The farm, being a twentyfour hour, seven days a week commitment, meant he never found the time over the years to have a social life. He felt regret that he never married or had a family. It was too late now!

When he was away competing, a young lad whose father owned a farm close to his, would come and look after his farm, doing all the work that was required on a daily basis. His name was Tom Sanderson. He was a keen worker in his mid twenties, and knew how to run a farm with great expertise for such a young man.
His years of helping his father and the willingness to work hard and learn the workings of a farm, gave Mr Finleyson peace of mind leaving Tom in charge. He would also hire Tom to do the heavier work around the farm now that it was becoming too difficult for him to manage.
Tom would come by to help out at least two days a week. He worked for his father the rest of the time.

Mr Finleyson was even going to retire from breeding hens and concentrate on the hens that he had now. That kept him busy enough. With Tom helping out a few days a week and being semi-retired, he felt he would be able to enjoy life and still run his farm.
He was looking forward to a new chapter in his life.
He felt happy with his decision and began to whistle softly to himself.

He noticed he was getting low on fuel and had been so lost in thought, he had not glanced at his watch for a while. It was getting on for 10:00 pm. He was tired, it had been a long day. He pulled off the motorway and drove to the petrol station. He filled up the Land Rover with diesel and drove to the rest area the lorry drivers used.
He got out of the Land Rover to stretch his legs, then proceeded to give all the hens some food and some water. This done, he took the two big cages out of the back of the Land Rover and set them down. The hens could now get some fresh air while he cleaned the trays that went under the cages to catch the hen's droppings. This done, he put the cages back on top of the trays and closed the rear door.
Now he tended to Martha. He took her off her cushion and carried her over to an area covered in grass. He put Martha down. She always stayed close to him and never strayed. He sat down on the bench there. Martha walked around pecking the ground as she went. It was good for her to stretch her legs. He sat and let Martha walk around for nearly half an hour. He picked her up and carried her back to the Land Rover and popped her back onto her cushion.