sometimes it strikes me how odd it is that we have domesticated dinosaur descendants in our backyard that turn house food scraps into delicious domesticated dinosaur descendant eggs. the very same eggs that helped them survive a mass extinction event. and that as a species they’re evolving 15 times faster than expected.
some people think chickens are not so smart. but maybe they’re just watching and waiting us out while they get fitter, faster. knowing they can survive.
that thing where your neighbor calls to let you know The Girls are wandering the streets and you spend an hour trying to round them up. and all this because your malamute loves to let them loose. sigh.
this one, in particular, was So Very Not Happy upon being captured. i don’t think she knows how good she’s got it!
i came home from work to find two of The Girls in the driveway. at some point the wind blew open the door the fenced in chicken run when nobody was home and even though they have a giant whole fenced in yard to explore these two adventurers will find a way out, over or under the fence. who knows how long they were walking around the neighborhood. this is their “OMG WE’RE BUSTED BY THE GIANT GIVER OF FOOD!!!!!!” face.
a more timid barred rock was, true to character, sitting in the chicken run refusing to even consider the possibility of exploring.
years ago, when we first got chickens and i was unaware of how easily they could get around the fence in the yard and how far they’d roam, i came home to discover a policeman and dog catcher had stopped to round up the flock of chickens that had escaped and were blocking traffic in the street.
the police came back the next day and, more nicely than i would have if it were me, let me know it had better not happen again. i was surprised they didn’t charge me a fee
these two are so funny. whenever i enter into the chicken run they’re all super friendly and curious about whether or not i have any compost for them. the barred rock scatters and is all, “nope. NOPE. NOOOOOPE!” i think they even like to be pet, or at least they tolerate it but the CDC says no kissing or cuddling ( seriously gross )!
The Girls, er, egg frida on to help them escape from the chicken run. They “talk” to her and if we don’t catch her she’ll move the logs and dig under the run or gnaw at the metal mesh to create an opening big enough for them to escape. She never tries to eat them. She just wants them TO BE FREE!
We do let them out into the yard but not as much as they want
it’s a little hard to see but this is one spot in the mesh where frida is gnawed an opening that we’ve had to repair.
living in a rural area, having backyard chickens makes no economic sense since fresh eggs are readily available and, almost literally, a dime a dozen. but the daily routine of saying “Hallo!” while feeding The Girls always makes me a smile which, i think, is priceless.
making odin french toast with eggs collected straight from the coop even more so
fresh eggs from The Girls are piling up. so eggnog pie for us ( uses egg yolks ) and macaroons ( uses egg whites ) for odin’s hockey team.