The Chicken Whisperer

First of all, I should state that I am terribly afraid of chickens.  As a matter of fact, I'm pretty scared of all birds.  Seriously.  And just my luck… they are drawn to me.  

After several "bird" instances and a divorce, I moved to town with my kids and thought I had escaped the fowl life.  I only had two trees in my yard and my bird exposure was pretty limited.  I started feeling complacent and even hung up a bird feeder, just in case they were hungry.  The birds and I were living a peaceful existence, each of us minding our own business.

Then it happened... my neighbors behind me got chickens.   Every day and night I could hear them.  “Cluck, cluck, cluck”.  It was like one of those horror movies where you could hear the birds before they attacked.  “Cluck, cluck, cluck”. 

When I would mow the grass, they’d come to the fence and watch me with their beady little eyes.  As I mowed along the fence row, they’d follow me to the end of their pen.  Back and forth, back and forth.  It was creepy.  “Cluck, cluck, cluck”.  Follow, follow, follow.  “Cluck, cluck, cluck”. Follow, follow, follow.

As time went on, we got used to each other.  Don’t get me wrong, there is no way I was going to stick my fingers through the fence, but I got to where I kind of liked their little clucking and I figured out that the reason they were following me on the mower was because they liked the grass clippings I was shooting into their pen.  I even began greeting them when I went out into the backyard.  “Hi chickens!”  “Cluck, cluck, cluck”, they’d respond.  We were getting along smashingly well, but then came the great escape.

Have you ever seen the movie, “Chicken Run”?  The gist of the movie is that the chickens are trying to figure out a way to escape before the farmer eats them.  Now, I don’t think my neighbors were planning to eat these chickens, but they did eat their eggs.  I, however, am allergic to eggs and don’t eat them.  Do you think the chickens could sense this?  Did they like this about me?  Sometimes I wondered.

One day I glanced out my back window and saw a white chicken in my yard.  I called my neighbor and told her she had an escapee, and she came over with her daughter and corralled the chicken and took it home.   A few days later, a different chicken was in my yard.  This time, my neighbor wasn’t home, so my daughter and I (Sheridan doing most of the work and me, armed with a broom, only getting as close as absolutely necessary) herded the chicken into a corner and encouraged it to fly back in through the hole it came out of.  They boarded up the hole and that was that.  Until it wasn’t.  The chickens obviously regrouped and came up with plan B. 

About a week later, the white chicken was back in my yard.  By this time, I’d name her Houdini because she truly was a great escape artist.  Each time she’d get out, I’d call my neighbor, she would get one of her daughters and they would come over and commence to corralling the chicken.  It was like the Great Rat Race.  Houdini would run to the left, they’d move to the left, and just before they could grab her, she’d run to the right.  They’d move to the right, and just before they could grab her, she’d fly up in the air.  It was really hysterical, all the while being just a tad terrorizing to me at the same time.  Finally, they’d get the chicken and take her back home.  That scenario happened time and time again.  After a time, Houdini started bringing Houdoneit with her.  They just loved my grass.  Someone must have told them the old adage, “The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence”.

 One day, after my neighbors had succeeded in corralling Houdini and Houdoneit, yet again, I glanced out the window and saw… THREE chickens in my yard.  They were multiplying!  I got a little hysterical for a moment, thinking about the off-chance that they might all get out of their pen and into my back yard.  How would I ever leave my house again?

            I sent my neighbor a text and she said they’d come get them later.  I forgot about them for a while, until I went to shut my blinds for the night.  I glanced out and saw that my yard was once again chicken-free and that all the chickens had gone into their coop to roost for the night.  I was just about to close up shop and head to bed, and then I heard it:  “Cluck, cluck, cluck”.  Oh no.  There was one more left out there in the dark… in my yard.  She sounded sad, lost and lonely.  “Cluck, cluck, cluck”.  I couldn’t help myself.  I went outside, peeked around the side of my house and there she was.  A HUGE black chicken.  As crazy as it sounds, that chicken was sending me some mom telepathy.  I was compelled to follow her; she sounded so sad.  I knew that all she wanted was to go to roost with her fellow girl chickens but she couldn’t figure out how to get back home. 

          Just then, I had some sort of out-of-body experience.  I couldn’t stop myself.  I slowly followed her around to the front of my house talking quietly and calmly to her.  I told her that I was really afraid of her, but I knew she needed help.  I told her that if she’d get on my porch and be still, that I would pick her up and take her home.  Yes, I know that sounds like the ramblings of a crazy woman, but hey, you do what you’ve gotta do. 

          As we rounded the corner to my front yard, I’ll be danged.  That chicken climbed up on my porch, turned around, looked me straight in the eye and stood perfectly still.  As unbelievable as it sounds, that chicken was giving me a chance to help her.  So, as promised, I reached down to pick her up, all the while asking her really nicely to please not bite me.  She never moved a muscle.  I picked her up and cradled her in my arms like a cat - I mean, obviously I had no chicken carrying experience – and started walking.  She never squawked or ruffled a feather.  I carried her all the way home and put her in the pen and she was perfectly still the whole time.  Once I let her down, she turned to look at me as if she were saying, “Thanks for the ride!”,  and into the coop she went.

          I have no explanation except to say, she loved me, obviously.  Like I said… I am the chicken whisperer.  “Cluck, cluck, cluck”.