Chicken Coaxing

The Hens are home!

That's right, it took an afternoon of coaxing, but they're home, safe, sound, and asleep.

The Hens really hate the snow, avoid it at all costs, so I had planned on walking them down the street and back into our yard.  Thanks to all this Global Warming we've had recently, I was able to lure them down through the field; a much shorter distance, and hidden from the road so as not to elicit dubious stares from neighbors.

Not that we have any anyways.

I was prepared for a long, drawn out war as I tried to convince them to move home; won slowly, one battle at a time.  It took about twenty minutes.  Sometimes I forget how dumb they are.

The Sibling and I unthreateningly made our way up the hill to where the Hens grazed mindlessly, tossing crumbs of Saltines and bits of bread as we went along in a gesture of good will.  Bread duly noted the Hens soon relaxed and enjoyed their good fortune.  They made it about 1/3 of the way down the hill when they got cold feet, literally.  The ground is soggy and cold and Hen 2 found a worm.

This was enough to distract her as she took down the worm, one bite at a time.  Hen 1 got a look at what Hen 2 was silently enjoying and stormed in just in time to steal the last bite.  After that they saw the trees separating our yard from Margee's, the trees they had just been standing near, and they got even more distracted.

Hen 1: Oh wow. Trees.  Do you think there's bugs over there?

Hen 2:  I have no idea!  Let's go find out.

Hen 1:  Lets go quickly, those featherless two-leggers over there look like they have plans for our bugs.

So they scrambled up the hill towards the promise of bugs.  Meanwhile, the dogs happily enjoyed the chicken's bread.  Sibling called the dogs and put them in the fenced-in yard; which took forever because he doesn't realize how sneaky Gidge is.  She will look at you with an honest face, pleading for you to believe her that she really wants to do what you say.  But she doesn't give a damn what you say because there are unattended calories on the hill.

Dogs secured, time to get back to Hens.

Sibling showered them with Saltine crumbs: See chickens?  See how we do?  We make it rain Saltines!

I slowly walked behind them and began herding them down the hill.  They were wary at first.  Especially when we made it to their former turning back point.  They couldn't decide which way to go to get around a large patch of snow.  Just going back seemed safest, but when each Hen looked around she didn't see anyone else go back, so she began to have second thoughts.  Panic and keep moving forward, I think that's their mantra.  Sibling and I persevered and kept them moving until they made it safely into what can classically be considered our yard; where they once again became distracted.

They happily pulled up worms and the occasional box elder under the shelter of a pine when they suddenly recognized where they were.

Hen 2:  Hey Hen 1!  Do you see this?  Haven't we been here before? 

Hen 1:  Wow.  You know, it really does look familiar.  Maybe a party or something?

The Hens made their way up to the roof and honked for everyone else; to their enormous relief, no one showed up.  They stood on top of the coop and surveyed their yard, keeping a watchful eye on the dogs as Gidget performed circus tricks in order to get a better look.

Then they skipped across the roof and patrolled the base of The Tree all afternoon.

I can't even tell you how comforting it is to see them pecking away outside my window.  I never realized how much I enjoy the incessant chaos they carry with them, it's just too quiet when they're not around.

And now they rest in The Tree, as peacefully as they know how, and I'm about to rest peacefully knowing that my chicken alarm clock is back in working order.  I know tomorrow's a new day, they'll probably go over to Margee's again and I'll have to repeat today tomorrow. 

But that's okay, I've learned that it's pretty easy to teach a chicken where home is.

Home is where they feed you.