This morning, as I was rushing around the coop, trying to let the chickens out in their run, feed them, and give them a treat before I left for work, one of the smaller ones slipped past me and got out into the garage. I wasn’t too concerned at first, hoping that she would hear the feed rattling around in the plastic scoop and just come right back in.
I finished feeding the others, then I approached her but she started a combination run-fly thing and headed to the area of the garage with nooks and crannies…into which she could fit but I could not.
Let the stress begin! The closer I got to her, the closer she got to wedging herself into a small space. If chickens had thumbs, she would have been using it to thumb her beak at me. I backed off.
Happy that I had my cell phone in my pocket, I called the house phone and asked my son to help.
He walked into the garage a few minutes later where I was still standing, rooted to the spot, afraid to take my eyes off the little offender in case she hid somewhere while I wasn’t looking. I explained the situation to him, and as I did, he just walked over to her, scooped her up, and was stroking her back while I just stood there with my mouth open.
He had done in one second what I had been trying to do for five minutes, but every time I “invaded her personal (chicken-al?) space”, she moved further away from me.
I’ve decided not to take it personally. I think she let him catch her because she bonded with him a couple of days after her birth. He was the one who picked her up out of the cardboard box upon her arrival from the post office, offered her a drink, and started her on her life’s path while I stood nearby, taking pictures of it all, as moms so often do.
She has now rejoined the flock. But I’m gonna be keeping my eye on her….