About a month ago, I was housesitting for some friends. One of my duties was to take care of the seven chickens. The first day I went over to the coop to refill the waterers. It was at this fledgling point that my brain apparently fell out of my head. I have no other way to explain it!
I simply left the coop door open. Yes, just left it open. I just did it. I have no explanation. So just take this as a given, and let's move on.
As I filled a waterer in the corner of the coop, I heard some excited clucking and turned around to see that all seven chickens had happily walked right on out. I have very little chicken experience, so I naively thought, "No problem. I'll just herd them back in." Those of you with chickens are probably laughing yourselves to death right now, but the fun has only just begun. Of course, I didn't herd the chickens back in. Pretty quickly, though, I managed to lure Chicken #1 back in with some corn. As she was busy eating, I left the door open and, after about 10 minutes, managed to chase Chicken #2 in. At this point, I slammed the door and realized that I could no longer keep it open, or we'd have a revolving door of chickens going in and out. Chicken #2 was the rooster, and this was when the games really began.
Once the rooster was in the coop, all the five outside chickens wanted was to get back in the coop. Seriously, that was their only goal in life. How can it be that the chickens and I had the same exact goal, and yet we couldn't accomplish it? I think that was the most frustrating part of the entire experience.
As I thought about all of my options, I decided I had a great idea. I'd go in, get a sheet, throw the sheet on the chickens, wrap them up, and toss them all back in the coop! In picture books, foxes never have a problem throwing a sack over a chicken and slinging it over his shoulder, so it should work! (By the way, in those books where the chicken outsmarts the fox? It would never happen.) I got my sheet, and also got the most dramatic reaction of this entire experience. I threw that sheet and everyone went batshit crazy. The chickens scattered like buckshot, and the rooster and chicken in the coop went nuts, flying into the ceiling and against the walls, and the noise was deafening. So...apparently not a good idea. A chicken-owning friend of mine told me later that her chickens go nuts when she just hangs the laundry out to dry. Sigh...
I regrouped and started chasing the chickens around and around and around the perimeter of the coop. They would head for the door as a group, but when I sprang ahead to open the door, they'd scatter. This idea failed multiple times.
I'd like to point out that this entire time, the other house pet, a little cat by the name of Layla Grace (who is all of three pounds fully grown) sat on a coop post watching me. I'm guessing she was laughing hysterically on the inside, but I can't know for sure because that would involve a cat showing emotion. What I do know is that she never left her source of entertainment, and she never helped.
Eventually I found a long stick. I chased the chickens around the coop to the door again, and tried to push the door open from afar with the stick. After several fails there, I managed to succeed, at which time Chicken #3 went in. Yes, folks, I was far away, the door was wide open, and only one chicken went inside. Mm-hm. As the chickens continually circled the coop, most of them tried to get into the coop by squeezing through the chicken wire. What this actually meant in real life is that their head made it through, and that was it. But if chickens have one trait, they are apparently tenacious. They would stick their heads in one hole after another, sure that the next one would work. It was while Chicken #4 had her head in the chicken wire that I snatched her up. I am very grateful that I didn't break her neck, but I did get a wing in the face for my trouble. I tossed her in.
I would like to highlight this chicken behavior: as the chickens came around, I would often open the door, either myself or with the stick. The chickens would walk right around the door and wistfully stare in from the hinge side. Their look said, "How will I ever get back to the harem and my man!" Their actions said, "I have half of a brain cell, and it's tired."
The coop was one big square, but one end had an additional enclosure that stuck out. This created an inward corner. I noticed that a lot of the chickens stopped in this corner. So I grabbed my trusty stick, and when one of the chickens stopped at this corner, I would leap from behind the addition, and bar them in the corner with my stick. I actually managed to catch both Chickens #5 and #6 in this way.
That left me vs. Chicken #7. By this time I was hot, sweaty, covered with feathers and hay and dirt, and I was dreaming of fried chicken, chicken teriyaki, chicken parmesan, chicken noodle soup, chicken and rice, and any other dish I could think of that involved chickens. These chickens, in particular. They are very lucky I don't cook. Anyway, I was angry and frustrated and lost my patience. I just flat-out tackled Chicken #7. Flew through the air like my true love, Troy Polamalu, and tackled that chicken.
People, this post is not that long, but this entire episode lasted TWO HOURS. I almost gave up so many times, and I now hate chickens with a passion. Is there any dumber creature on earth? I mean, there may be, but I'm skeptical.
I have to admit, though, that as I told chicken-owners this story, I got to feeling pretty good about catching seven chickens by myself. Apparently it isn't easy, even if you are familiar with chickens.
But chickens, if you are reading this, I hate you.
I just want to say that we are so grateful you managed to get them all safely back in their coop. The time that same door was left open by one of the chicken owners (Aaron did it), they were all murdered by the family dog. We can always get more chickens, but I bet you'd never agree to chicken-sit again if you had to dispose of seven dead chickens!
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