Chasing Chickens

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If you would have asked me twenty years ago how I envisioned my life, I don’t think ‘chasing chickens’ would have been on my list. At all. Perhaps a house in the country. A few kids. But chickens – not on my radar.

This past week I took our ‘country living’ to an entire new level {at least in my book}.

 

As a bit of back story, a few weeks ago we had a rogue chicken that someone managed to find a way out of the locked run several days in a row. That same chicken also has recently resorted to laying some of her eggs on the ROOF of the run and likes to walk around up there quite a bit.

We did eventually discover the hole in some chicken wire underneath the coop, fixed it and the chickens remained contained.

Or at least I thought they were.

A few days ago the kids were supposed to let the chickens out of the coop {but not the run} since it was raining. Mid-morning I went outside to scare {aka shoot} a squirrel off the bird feeder and found one lonely chicken pecking the ground underneath the feeder.

But the rest of the chickens were in the run.

Did I mention it was raining?

I briefly chased the chicken and then ran down to the chicken run to double check and do a chicken head count and one was missing {and here I was home alone with no kids to send chasing after it}.

After several times around the run checking for holes in the wire and attempting to figure out how we managed to have another escapee, I was at a loss. No holes. Nada. And I still hadn’t caught the chicken.

Ten minutes of chasing and looking.

Did I mention it was raining?

Because I was getting rather wet and a wee bit irritated, I decided to head back inside and let the chicken roam. But I quickly checked for eggs before heading up to the house.

Inside one of the nesting boxes was the missing chicken- trying to enjoy a moment of peace and just quietly lay an egg.

Apparently that chicken I’d been trying to catch belonged to the neighbors.

Probably better I didn’t catch it, eh?