Whoever said chickens were dumb farm animals was wrong. Or have not met my chickens.
My chickens live on the side of my house where an old dog run used to be. So, now, we call it the chicken run. On one side of the chicken run is my house; on the other is a 4 foot fence.
I had–erroneously–thought that the chickens would be unable to get over the gate.
Wrong. Ever heard the saying “fly the coop?”
Yup, my chickens can fly (as can all chickens, actually), and so they flew over the gate and into the neighbors’ yards. Not only the yard, but pretty much all over the neighborhood. I’ve chased my chickens down the road on numerous occasions, and it’s not fun. It’s also not fun having people stare at you as you pass by houses carrying a chicken (or two) under your arm.
But the solution to their flying was simple: trim their wings.
Which I did. But I didn’t trim enough, so off they flew again.
I trimmed them again. I threw them in the air. No flying anymore.
Two days later, though, they were gone again. I went out to investigate and found a hole in the fence, leading straight into the neighbor’s yard. I mended the hole.
This was beginning to feel too 18th century for me.
Within days they had disappeared again.
I began to get super pissed. Not only were they leaving for the day (they always come back at night hence the saying, “home to roost.”), but they were laying eggs elsewhere too.
And I know this is just some primary animal instinct they have to save their young from being taken by me, though they haven’t seemed to figure out that their eggs are unfertilized, but still…I feel for them. If someone kept taking my eggs, I’d move to.
But still, it was pissing me off.
So I went to Home Depot and purchased a 6 foot reed fence. Then I spent all day with Maddie and Luke putting it up all along the neighbor-side of the chicken run.
So far the chickens are still on the side of the house. I really don’t know how they can escape, but I’m not discounting anything. So after this whole day working and sweating, I’m thankful I’ve corralled the chickens.
I think I’d have done well living in the 18th century.