Wild Things

Marsha and Shelly were wild girls. As chicks, they received no loving or pampering. As time went on and they came to realize my presence meant food and treats and they would come up to see what I had to offer. They had no desire to be touched, so getting them to go places I needed them to was like- well, herding chickens. Mary would tolerate being guided along with my foot, but if I ever reached out to actually touch one of them with my hand they would fly about in a panic.

Mary was notorious for going over the chain link fence between my backyard and my neighbor’s when she was let out of the tractor to graze. Usually I had to chase her back and forth along the fence line until she was too tired to fight me, which is not my preferred method of exercise. Once she ran into some netting and became tangled up, which helped with her capture and enabled me to hoist her over the fence and into her own yard.

Next time I get chickens, they’ll be babies and I’ll love ’em up so they’ll be easier to deal with when they’re loose in the yard.

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