Thursday, August 23, 2012
Chicken Chasing -or- We All Fall Down
Okay, so we now have these chickens we've adopted/rescued and recently (a couple of days ago) added to our already existing flock. I forgot to let you know about that, honey. So now you know!
These chickens are supposedly great- to hear their previous owner talk, they're docile, charming, practically pet quality. Fantastic, I think, already laying, tame, hens for the yard!
What could go wrong?
Well, for one, I could forget to check if their wings are clipped before tossing the already-caught feathered Houdinis into the coop with my (wing clipped and well-behaved) ladies.
So I realize I have two rogue hens running around the neighborhood, yesterday. Luckily, all of my neighbors are chicken-friendly, in the hopes of some eggs being bestowed upon them in the future. But still. I should recapture the chickens! So I waited until the night fell (genius, right?), hoping they'd roost someplace easy...like in our front yard. And they did! Just prior to my discovery of the rogue roosts, I had clipped the wings of four of the new arrivals...so I was feeling cocky.
I went to grab one of the girls from my flowerbeds, and missed. By the way, you need to weed those when you get home! Cue midnight chicken chasing hilarity. I gave up and went to bed. Then, today, on my way to work, I saw one of the little assholes, smug as you please, strutting in front of my car! Tried luring with food. No dice. I was now late to work, and had nothing but a bruised ego to show for it.
This afternoon, on my way home, who do I see in my driveway? Demon chickens one and two. Exactly.
I got out of the car, leaving the kids buckled in, and went to try to herd one of the satan-birds back to the yard. I admit, I got a little overzealous when I got really close to snagging one of them and I tripped. And fell. Hard.
My toe caught on my neighbor's gorgeously tended grass and my only thought as I fell was: "Dang, our yard looks like crap, we need to hire gardeners!" And then I realized I was going down. And it hurt. I lay on their soft, cushy grass, grateful I hadn't kneed my burgeoning belly and winded myself in our own dead, weedy yard...would not have been nearly as nice a landing!
I caught my breath by hissing obscenities at the smug dinosaur waddling away from me, regained composure, and got the car into the garage, the kids inside, and called one of my midwives. She was sympathetic, and to her credit, did not laugh at me. For which I am eternally grateful! So now I'm taking it easy and counting kicks, rubbing my sore back (nursing that bruised ego), and relaxing.
Stupid effing chicken. If I ever catch her, I'm going to make chicken noodle soup.
And don't worry, honey. I'm mostly recovered now. My ego might take a few days to heal up, though. It was a pretty nasty bruise! Baby didn't even notice. Kicking away at my ribs, and punching away at my belly button and bladder in turns. I have never been happier for such painful reassurance!
Love, your eight (nine) months pregnant wife. Come home soon, or you'll miss all the fun!