Our chickens lost some of their free-range privileges today.
Every morning I let them out into our large, fenced backyard, (even though others in our family are afraid they will eat the garden) to facilitate a happy, carefree, hunt & peck for plants and bugs chicken life for them. Somehow this morning all 8 of them ended up in our unfenced FRONT yard, which dogs pass by dozens of times a day, usually leashed, but sometimes not. I had a situation on my hands.
I first caught and secured Sallie, my 3-year-old's beloved white banty. I then started after Sadie, my not-so-beloved possible rooster, and the others. They dodged me expertly, ducking behind long rows of landscaping and then back out again. I tried shucking some corn and baiting them with that, but they wouldn't follow me up the steps. Hmmm. I text two of my neighbors asking for help. In the meantime, I spy a group of about 5 elderly gentlemen on their leisurely morning stroll. I've seen these guys, they walk together every morning, some days the group is larger, some days smaller, but they are there, every morning. Perfect. I approach them, introduce myself, and ask, "Could I ask you a favor? Can you help me catch my chickens?" "Sure!" they reply. One proceeds do a pretty good chicken bok-bok-BA-GAWKK! imitation. Another queries, "Okay. What is the desired result here?" "These chickens, into that coop."
The chasing and be-goking and feather flying ensues. I figured old guys would be expert chicken catchers. They did pretty well, but they didn't seem as experienced as one might think. Ahh, this is West Linn, maybe they are a bunch of retired CEOs or something. Anyway, I DO appreciate their help. Poor Lucinda, the guy who got ahold of her, was holding her upside down by the feet, wings flapping, she was loudly protesting, dropping feathers everywhere. I wondered why he was holding her that way, did he see it in a movie or something? Or maybe that is how you are supposed to hold a chicken. I'm a pretty new chicken farmer, I don't know.
The as-of-yet uncaught chickens bolted for the back of the property, towards a very steep, crumbling drop-off to the creek. An octogenarian ambled after them. I warned them about the drop-off and the 80-something-year-old's friend said, "Larry? You doin' okay back there?"
Anyway, all of the chickens were put back into the coop and all of the men made it out safe and sound, with some variety added to their morning walk, and having gotten a bit of a workout to boot. I thanked them profusely then went in and fried myself some eggs for breakfast.
