For the Birds

I've never been a huge fan of domesticated animals. I believe animals should run around in their natural state, not in zoos or cages or stuck inside a house all day. And they always seem to misbehave around me.

Dogs always jump on me and lick my ankles while their owners shockingly say, "I swear, he never does that to anyone!" And don't even get me started on picking up animal poop with only a slim plastic lining protecting the hand.

Cats and I also have an iffy relationship. In my younger years I was actually attacked by one of our family cats. It snarled and hissed and then pounced on me, ferociously clawing at me. I ran and tried to hide under a thick down comforter and screamed while I watched its claws come at me through the material. It was like being in a bad horror film.

So when my friends decided to become chicken farmers I promised myself I would never help them clean the coop, feed the chickens, touch the chickens, or collect their eggs. They all have crazy foodie names like Snack, Donut, Egg, etc. and their kids love them and they find happiness in it, so what do I care?

A few months ago, however, the chickens started to disappear. Raccoons maybe? Owls? Well, one day while I was doing some writing on my computer, I saw some commotion out of the corner of my eye. I looked up to see orange feathers flying through the air - followed by a peppy coyote carrying a large, limp chicken into the woods by its neck. It had massacred the poor thing. Chicken skin and feathers covered the ground outside. At this point, the coyote had killed all but one of the chickens.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago. Four more chicks had been brought home and were put into the garage under a heat lamp to grow. Two black ones and two yellow ones. The yellow ones grew very quickly and just yesterday my friends decided to put all four of them into the chicken coop with the original hen. When they checked up on them later they observed the four little chicks all huddled up together. How cute, right?

Two of the four new chicks

Today after returning from the gym I looked outside to find one of the yellow chickens wandering around the yard by itself. I wondered how it had gotten out and after talking to my friend assured her I was capable of catching the one yellow chick and putting it back in the coop. I had just conquered an hour long workout...surely I could do this. I was a strong, confident woman!

I put on my slippers and headed outside. Having no idea if there's a "come here chicky-chick" noise you're supposed to make, I simply started talking to the yellow chick. It didn't run away from me and I easily picked it up and carried it to the gate. The big original hen ran over to the gate, waiting for the chick to be returned. "How sweet," I thought to myself, "It's being protective of the new babies!" ...Or so I thought.

The minute I placed the yellow chick into the coop that big hen turned into Satan. She started pecking at the yellow chick, chasing it around the coop as it gawked and ran for its life. I had no idea what to do. The big hen finally chased the yellow chick into the corner of the coop where it shoved its head into the ground and pushed itself under the fence and back into the yard - obviously how AND WHY it escaped the first time! I literally stood there in shock.

Chicken Farming Hell

After debating with myself for a few minutes on what I should do, I caught the traumatized yellow chick and put her in a box. Then I decided I must rescue the other babies. Armed only with my slippers and a short stick I ventured back over to the coop only to witness the Satan chicken chasing the smaller chicks around, stomping on them, and at one point pecking one really hard and then picking it up in its beak and tossing it. I called the Satan chicken a bully. I told her she was mean and that no one liked her. I tried to poke her with the stick, but she tried to peck me with that vicious beak. I was horrified.

The other yellow chick made it over to the gate and I quickly opened the door and rescued her. That must have made Satan's Bully really mad because she then went after the two black chicks. Cornering one of them, the first black chick went into survival mode and stuck its head in a hole and pretended it was dead. The other one got chased around and around the coop, getting pecked at here and there.

It felt like hours later when Satan's Bully got bored and sauntered into her hen house. It was only then that I was able to close the door and lock her in there. I rescued the two black chicks who, at this point, were shaking from the whole terrifying experience.

The four baby chicks are now safely back in the garage, no thanks to my slow chicken responses, fear of getting pecked to death, and poor footwear choice. But I saved them. I touched them. My hands were covered in chicken poop. I can say that my dealings with chickens in that hour was enough to fill a lifetime and my opinion of chicken farming has not changed...it's definitely for the birds.