Welcome to yet another Monday, dear reader. I hope you spent your weekend doing something that makes you happy. As I sit looking out my large picture window, the wind is gusting, the sun is peeking out through grey clouds, and the leaves on the trees are russet, golden, or scarlet; it is the perfect October day unless you are a crazy-ass chicken. Sigh. You may remember that back in April, I brought twenty chicks into our farm family fold. I envisioned docile, friendly little balls of fluff that would grow into pet hens who would come when called, let me handle them, and lay lovely eggs of assorted colors. Instead, I have twenty insane chickens that run if I look in their direction, lay their eggs wherever they feel like, and roost anywhere but the chicken coop.
All twenty hens are guilty of the above offenses, but five have gone rogue. These five ladies roost in the arborviteass near the driveway. They choose to sleep in the trees like feral chickens rather than follow the crowd and join the others in the lovely, safe chicken coop. The arborvitaes play host to raccoons, opossums, hawks, and any number of nocturnal chicken-eating creatures. It is only a matter of time until these rebels become dinner to some wild creature.
Not only do they sleep in the trees, but they also roost on my porch railing. They line up on the railing, hang out until someone goes out the front door, then they fly, fluster, and poop all over my porch. My original girls, Jordan Short, Dory the door pecker, Fuzzy Feet, and Henrietta Yubyutch, hang out on the porch waiting for me to come out with a treat. Not the new crazy-ass chickens, oh, no. They hang out and make a mess. I am constantly sweeping chicken poop off the porch railings and floor. There are feathers everywhere, and they don't even come when called for a treat. They are an insufferable lot.
I have never seen such wild, flighty chickens. Last night, I put the girls and Romeo to bed. When I walked past the arborviteas, I saw the white feathers calling like a beacon from the dark green branches of the trees. No matter how often I tell them they will get eaten, they refuse to listen—stupid birds. Last night, I shook their branches and knocked them off their roost. Do you know what they did, dear reader? They ran to the coop and went inside. They are capable of going inside the coop. They apparently understand it is safe inside the coop. However, they choose to put themselves at risk. Four of the five rebels ran to the coop. One lone ding-dong decided climbing higher into the trees was best. Currently, she is running around the yard, clucking for her friends.
As if on cue to reinforce my lectures on safety, a hawk has begun hanging out in the trees near the house. As The Bibbed Wonder and I sat enjoying our lunch, I caught a glimpse of something large and brown soaring past the window. I initially thought it was one of the brown crazy-ass chickens. I then saw a reflection of a large bird sitting on the handle of my large white cement planter shaped like a basket. Again, I thought it was one of my stupid birds. However, I soon realized it looked much too regal for one of my chicks. There was a commotion outside the window. As I went to look, I saw an impressive young hawk swoop down and try to encase one of my chickens with its massive talons. I went running out the door, calling for Eric to get the gun.
I ran after the hawk, yelling, "No, no, no! Don't you dare! Seriously, I will shoot you myself if you steal my chickens!" The hawk flew from the basket handle, around the front of the house, and landed on the ground near the living room windows and shrubs the hens hide under. This impressive young hawk has been very observant. It appears to know exactly where the chickens hang out. I shouted, "Oh, you bold bas@#$%!" The hawk was gone by the time The Bibbed Wonder made his way to the yard, but I could hear its screech in the trees behind the house.
Eric gave me a refresher on loading the gun and showed me the safety button and the clip. He reminded me not to shoot towards any buildings or the goats. I handed him back the gun and said, "I think you had better keep this. I can see myself getting too excited and shooting out a window." He laughed out loud and told me I was cute—probably correct, but cute. He took the gun back inside the house for safekeeping.
If I'm being honest, I could not nor would not shoot a majestic hawk. I may fire a warning shot in the air to scare it, but I couldn't kill it or, worse, wound it. I have a love of birds of all kinds, but especially raptors. I don't want to see my hens carried off, even if they are crazy and irksome, but I couldn't kill a hawk. The hawk is intelligent enough to take heed of my warnings. I have not seen it since the initial attack. Now, if my stupid, crazy-ass chickens would listen to reason, all would be well.
If you attend our Fall At The Farm event, look for red-tailed hawks, bald eagles, owls, turkey vultures, wild turkeys, and Canadian geese. Our land is home to an impressive array of wildlife. On this blustery fall day, stay safe, be smart, protect even crazy-ass birds, and keep washing your hands.
Comentários