If you have never lived with chickens, you might think the concept of letting them free range seems a bit crazy. After all, chickens not closed into their coop at night are easy prey for nighttime predators like possums, raccoons, foxes and coyotes. Who wants to be responsible for rounding up chickens to put them in for the night? But the great thing about chickens is they know where they live, and as it starts to get dark, they faithfully come home and put themselves to bed. The origin of the saying “coming home to roost”. But when that recently went wrong, it made for a crazy evening, or in a more positive light, a good story.
I got home from running errands a bit later than I had intended and it was just starting to get dark. The goats were loudly asking for a walk (see goat walk). The chickens were getting ready for bed, and were mostly in the chicken yard. I encouraged the stragglers to join them with some bird seed, and then closed them into the yard so I could safely bring the dogs out off leash (see Chicken hunter). Dogs, goats and I took a brief walk out to the back of the property and then back home. We arrived back in the yard to find that despite my best intentions, I had accidentally closed one lone hen OUT of the yard, and she was running excitedly back and forth along the outside of the chicken fence. I quickly grabbed Bella (the chicken killer) and got her into the fenced dog yard, followed by Bear, while warding off the goats, who thought a visit into the dog yard would be great fun. Then I tried to let the chicken into her yard. Now, please understand, my chickens are well treated but they are not pets. They do not want to be petted, picked up or even touched by humans, if they can avoid it. So, although she was waiting right by the closed gate to the chicken yard, when I got close enough to open the gate, she freaked out and ran the other way, disappearing behind a neighboring shed. I propped the gate open so she could run in to the yard, and circled around the shed. My plan was to get behind her and chase her back toward home, but as I came around the shed I saw no sign of her. I hoped that she had run around the shed and headed all the way home. By now all the chickens in the yard had gone in to roost, so I headed over to the coop to do a chicken head count, and confirm that she was safely inside. However, upon arriving at the chicken house, I found that the 4 goats had decided to take advantage of the open gate and my lack of attention to explore the chicken yard. They had upset one of the chicken feeders and were happily munching on chicken food spilled out on the ground. (Just so you know, these are the same fastidious goats who won’t eat a single bite of hay that has fallen out of their feeder onto the ground.) Not giving up hope, I proceeded into the chicken coop for the head count. No luck. I was one chicken short. I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised that the chicken who wouldn’t let me near enough to open the gate for her hadn’t braved getting past 4 goats to go home. I figured the first thing I needed to do was get the goats out of there. Of course, they had other ideas. I tried to lure them home with goat treats, but who needs goat treats when you have a pile of lovely, novel chicken pellets to munch on. So, I got a halter and led (dragged might be a more accurate description) a reluctant mama goat (Izzie) back to the barn. That worked like a charm for the little ones, who trailing along behind. Uncle Icky was intent on chicken food, and didn’t initially come along, but thankfully, just as I was getting ready to take the halter and try to drag home a stubborn goat who outweighed me at least by a good 30 pounds, he realized he was alone in the chicken yard and ran home to join us in the barn. Since it wasn’t quite dark I decided to milk Izzie and hope my wayward chicken would go home, now that I was out of sight, the gate was open and there were no goats in her way. By the time I was done with the milking it was pretty dark. If she was going to move she had done it. Back into chicken house I went to count chickens. Still one short! I got my light and searched all through the barn, which was open when the chicken made her run for it, in the branches of bushes and trees near the coop, and all through the grass and weeds near the chicken yard, and the nearby garden. I even laid down in the muck and peered under the shed. No luck, so I did it all again. Still no chicken. At that point I figuring all that was left for me was hope- hope that in the morning I would find a chicken running around outside her yard rather than a pile of feathers. Then, as I was going toward the house, I just happened to take one last look behind me, and there she was, tucked behind a pallet that was leaning against the back of the shed. I had recently invested in a small fishing net to help me catch chickens so I retrieved that, and thank goodness. Without it I would certainly have been chasing a terrified chicken around in the dark. With it, I was able to cover her just as she realized I was coming for her and keep her from making a run for it. Finally, I was able to put her safely inside. And thankfully I was the only witness of the evening’s comedy, no embarrassing videos!