Redneck Thanksgiving

cropped-11_09_28.jpegOne Thanksgiving a couple of years ago, some friends came to celebrate with me. We were busy creating a beautiful holiday feast and needed parsley from the garden, so I went out to fetch some.

I let the girls out to free range earlier that morning and lo and behold, both of them were pecking around in my neighbor’s yard. I went back inside and asked my friends to come help me round up the chickens. Out we trooped. I wasn’t aware that the girls would freak when they saw new people and create more work in their capture, but it sure did.

I posted one friend by the fence between the yards thinking she could keep them from going too far one way and the other friend ready to close the tractor door. As Marsha became airborne to cross the low section of fence, she spied my friend standing there, freaked and took a magnificent leap up and onto the  eight foot privacy fence between my yard and the next door neighbor’s yard. I was thinking, “Please don’t go over to the other side.” Too late, she teetered there a second before dropping over into their yard.

How can we possibly get Marsha to fly back over the privacy fence? Then I remembered the hole under the fence I had blocked with a board and cinder block, my own touch of “kountry”. I left one friend to unblock the hole and then stand out of sight while my other friend and I went around to herd Marsha through the hole. Fortunately for us, Marsha was looking low instead of high. As soon as she saw the hole, she ducked through.

While we were worrying about Marsha, Shelly took a leap over the gate and into the driveway on the other side of my yard. Our first step was to ensconce Marsha in the chicken tractor, close the door and then work with Shelly. She’s a more sensible hen and walked through the gate once we opened it and over to the tractor without a fuss. The hardest part was keeping Marsha in the tractor while we opened the door and herded Shelly in. Not what you’d call a cake walk. Round and round we went until finally everything synced and on Shelly’s umpteenth revolution of the tractor, the door opened, Marsha was out of the way, and Shelly entered the tractor.

Success. Now we can harvest the parsley and finish the feast. My friend claimed that this was the first Redneck Thanksgiving she’d ever been to.

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