Don’t play chicken with me…

December 8, 2011 § 2 Comments

I am so grateful for this blog.

As I was chasing chickens around our neighbor’s yard with a rake, I thought to myself, “I’m so glad I get to blog about this.”

How did I end up wielding my neighbor’s rake at my chickens?

I’m so glad you asked.

Upon spotting through the kitchen window that the shed door was open, I went out to close it and counted three chickens roaming about.  I always count the chickens. I can’t stop myself. And there are supposed to be five.

Since they always travel together, I did some sleuthing around the yard, all of their usual hiding places, and even the front yard in case they trailed Kenny when he left for work.

Something was amiss.

I called Kenny, asked if he had counted them when he let them out (he couldn’t remember, which I found ludicrous- if we have five children, I would expect he perform a regular head count), and proceeded to wander around the yard like, well, like a lost chicken.

Nothing. [Note: asking the other three, “where are your sisters?” was frustratingly futile.]

After many trips around the house, I prayed.  They had to be somewhere.  My third trip to the back fence proved eventful- there they were, just chillin’ as if they hadn’t just become chicken delinquents.  I scoffed, then thanked God for the help.  [Note: It’s kinda too bad the neighbors weren’t home at the time- their two girls LOVE the chickens.  Of course, with what happens next, I thanked God once more that they, in fact, were not home.]

A quick assessment revealed that I could probably fit between the fences and grab ’em.  I got my Xtra Tuffs.  I got Kenny’s work coat.  And I snuck through the fence to get my chickens.  We stared at each other for a while, giving the stink eye.  Every time I took a step closer, they would back threateningly towards a dark hole too small for Natalie.  I pretended to have food in my hand, which peaked their interest, but they just continued staring.

I would not be made the fool.  I wanted my tea that was currently cooling during this whole debacle. I wanted to get out of their yard.  Grabbing one of the many tools scattered about their garden, I began chasing them down.  With a ginormous rake.  Around the tree, over the picnic table, up onto the porch.  They finally got so freaked out that they ran, clucking away, back through the fence and into our yard.  Not a fool, indeed.

The hooligans.

So, that was my morning.  And all I can think is, “at least, I think the neighbor’s weren’t home…”   *shrugs*


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