The Great Chicken Rescue of '06

The forecast yesterday predicted thunderstorms in the afternoon. I figured that I had my day mapped out perfectly. Let the chickens out in the yard, transfer the guineas from their small bin to the larger chicken pen, feed and water the guineas, go for a walk with Anna-Rose, come home and have breakfast, bring my mom on her weekly shopping trip, come home and get the chickens back onto the porch (yes, porch....the coop is still under construction) before the weather changed.

I forgot the saying that plans were made to be changed.

And that the Lord has been working on my habit of impatience for some time now. Did I mention that I'm a slow learner?

Long about an hour after the chickens had been enjoying their morning constitutional around the back yard, I heard a faint booming. Thought nothing of it as there is some development going on down the road a piece. The booming went on and on and on. Suspicious now, I ventured out onto the patio just as the sky began to darken. Great. Back onto the porch, guys and gals.

Needless to say, the chickens did not eagerly stand at attention and gallop at my heels to the sound of my snapping fingers and sweet voice beckoning, "Choooook.....chookchookchook." They looked up at me with that peculiar chickeny tilt of the head and cold calculating eye and silently declared me to be off my rocker. Whoever said chickens were stupid never met my flock of geniuses.

Bearing in mind that my back is in a fragile state these days, I commenced to murmuring endearments, coaxing, and finally full body tackling all twelve chickens until they were all rounded up and safely ensconced on the porch once more, albeit NOT in their pen which was now occupied by fifteen psychotic guineas. (Yes.....I still have all fifteen. No one who knows the reputation of guineas should be surprised that I have not found a single person who will take even one off my hands. My father-in-law remarked to me, "Whatever possessed you to get guinea hens? Hm. Possessed. An accurate assessement.)

Well, by now it was too late for a walk and we had to rush to make it out the door in time to pick up my mom. I left instructions with Isaac that if the weather cleared, he was to open the porch door and let the chickens back into the yard.

I arrived home shortly after 1:00 to find the chickens playing cards on the porch.....no, they're not that smart. Truthfully, while I was gone, we had had quite the gangbuster of a storm here complete with hail. It appeared to be growing less cloudy and the sun was making brief appearances, so I opened the door to the porch, much to the chickens' glee and they raced away joyfully as fast as they could distance themselves from me. (If you've never seen a chicken run, you don't know what you're missing. Try tying your arms to your sides, lean forward, and sprint. You get the idea.)

Fast forward one hour.

Boom.......Boom. Uhoh.

This time we didn't start off with a tentative drizzle but the mother of all downpours. Poor chickies. They sought shelter under a bush honeysuckle by the back door under which they huddled in a miserable array of sodden feathers.

Dilemma #1: Bring them in? Leave them out? Bring them in? Leave them out? Oh look at the poor things. They're going to get hypothermia or some chicken disease. Yeah, and I'm going to get soaked! But they're still technically babies, aren't they? Oh, they'll survive, they have all their feathers. And so I argued with myself for several minutes. The survival instinct was kicking in strong. In the meanwhile, the downpour increased until the view of my back yard was a blur.

Sigh.

Clenching my jaw, I rolled up my pant legs, and set out on the great chicken rescue. Thunder boomed and lightning crashed. It was a life or death situation.......mine. Twenty soggy minutes later I was a hero and my flock was warm and on their way to being dry.

Dilemma #2: The chickens are now LOOSE on the porch because the guineas have taken occupation of their pen and there is absolutely NO WAY I am going to lasso those varmints again. They are now almost four weeks old and they can fly! In circles even. You cannot imagine how difficult it is to restrain a guinea whose wings are stronger than my biceps. Okay, I'm a wimp muscle-wise, but you get the picture. I'd already chased them around the porch that morning with everything but a set of bolas to get them into that pen. "Anna-Rose, come here and help me......we're going to fill the porch with these pine shavings." And that is what we did. The chickens now have a cozy little (temporary, I emphasize) pen on the porch. It will be a mess for a while but you do what you have to do. Necessity is the mother of invention and all that.

Ah, the joys of country living. Wouldn't trade it for the world.

Had any adventures lately?