I came home tonight to the sound of a strange chicken-like honking emanating from the back garden. I thought 'Uh-oh' Matilda's got herself in trouble. Matilda's the biggest chook, and turning out to be the One Most Needing Rescuing at the moment. We are in the habit of leaving the chickens to run around the main garden on Friday's and weekends when we are mostly at home. As you will read that policy may need refining....
Although I could hear Matilda I couldn't find her. I checked the house and could find only three of the five chooks, perching sensibly on their roosts. I turned back to the house and spotted a fourth on top of the roof of the utility room. This was Connie, I still didn't know where Matilda was. Connie was mildly distressed and straining to look over next door's garden. That would be the neighbours with the really small garden. And the giant St Bernard dog...
Then I heard more clucking, from over the fence. I stretched up and peered over. There was Matilda poking around in a thankfully dog-free garden. I grabbed some sweetcorn and dashed around, greeting the neighbours with the classic line 'Please may I have my chicken back?'.
Thankfully after a brief chase around the garden, trying to catch a chicken whilst simultaneously avoiding St Bernard poo (the dog, not the saint), the girls were all re-united and are now locked back up in their run for the day. No more adventures today.
Problem is this means we need to seriously re-consider our stance on not clipping their wings. We thought it might be a help when strange cats venture in the garden. By leaving their wings in tact it might give them a better chance to escape. Though preferably not over into next door's garden, please, or beyond. This is farming country, ladies, you're not considered just egg-layers.
Ah, the joys of chicken-keeping. Those eggs can't come soon enough.
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