The idea of keeping a few chickens really appeals to me. However, cockerels have put me off - for a long time I've been embarrassed to admit that I'm baffled by the fundamentals of egg production and whether or not you need the male of the species. Luckily, Polly Gibb runs a basic chicken keeping course for people just like me. "That's the most common question I'm asked, and the answer's no," she reassured me beforehand. However, slightly disconcerting was her advice to wear "thick trousers". The one-day course began in Polly's kitchen with a mug of tea. Most of the nine of us there wanted hens as productive pets; a couple saw keeping the birds and selling their eggs as a post-retirement project. Polly said that her aim was to show us how to look after hens, the best way of accommodating them and how to tell a young, healthy hen from an old chuck that had passed her sell-by date.

Polly Gibb (left) shows off one of her friendliest birds - a buff orpington

On the table in front of us were boxes of eggs which had been collected earlier that morning. They ranged in colour from white to chocolate-brown and even greeny-blue. Some of the shells had a coarse texture, and Polly said that these eggs were from older birds, although the contents were absolutely fine. She cracked one open to show how a fresh egg from a well-kept hen should appear. Even raw it looked delicious with its rich, raised yolk. Next came nine-year old Hannah, a geriatric barnevelder. Polly normally culls birds (something else we were shown how to do) once they are past their peak but admits to having a soft spot for Hannah. In contrast to the welsummer, this hen looked tired, with droopy eyes and matronly, lumpy legs. She also had a rather mucky bottom - another sign of age to look for when buying stock. we were warned. Polly's talk touched on how to store eggs and market them. She labels hers as coming from "happy hens" rather than "free range" because, she says, to sell eggs as "free range" means lots of tiresome paperwork. Mid-morning we ventured into the fields. We practised picking up hens and examining them to establish their age and state of health. Catching the birds was a challenge for us novices, and I swear they were chuckling at our efforts, but once caught they were calm and easy to handle. We fell in love with the bufforpingtons -large, butterscotch-yellow birds that helpfully stood right in front of us, waiting to be picked up. According to Polly, they are very friendly creatures but hopeless layers. After we'd learnt the ideal routine for our hens and how to feed them and check for disease, Polly introduced us to Wilbur the cock. The need for peck-proof trousers soon became clear. Unless you want to breed, advises Polly, stay clear of the male of the species: usually he is nothing but trouble. Sounds familiar. Over a delicious lunch back at the house, Polly told us that she has been keeping chickens since childhood. Even with the eggs, breeding and the courses, she only makes enough to cover her costs but her enthusiasm is infectious. If the morning hadn't been sufficiently inspiring, the lemon-curd tart (a wonderful egg byproduct) certainly was. We dealt with accommodation and cleaning after lunch. The quality and suitability of arks and houses varies hugely. Polly told us to consider the ease of cleaning. manoeuvrability, security, space and shade. She took us through breeding, also, although Wilbur had confirmed my suspicions that cocks are best avoided. To steal a phrase from a DIY product, this course did exactly what is said on the tin: we covered everything we needed to know to get started with confidence. The day was supposed to end at four o'clock but Polly happily answered our questions and took us to see again the breeds we were interested in. She assured us that we were welcome to contact her at any time for advice, regardless of whether we bought our stock from her.did the trick. I spent that night dreaming of fluffy buff orpingtons roaming around my garden. However, after I'd enjoyed one of the eggs we'd collected, poached, on toast the next morning, I started to see the appeal of a good layer.