embrace the cluckin' chaos

the trials of a chicken cuddler

Some things that I do are not in my best interests.

Take yesterday as a prime example. Laura wanted to cuddle some chickens. There’s a problem though. When they’re in the chicken run during the day, it’s fully self contained. There’s no way in without taking down some fencing.

What to do?

With the option of going into the chicken run off of the table, the only choice left was obvious. I had to find a way to get the chickens out. Luckily, chickens are not super bright.

In fact, chickens are pretty stupid. They do like food and tend to respond well to it.

I filled their little feeder and used it to lure them into their coop. Once there, I opened the access hatch that’s used for egg retrieval and cleaning. Then, using a stick with a hook, I moved their food from inside of the coop to the outside.

The hook scared the chickens the first time. Eventually, they became used to it. They’d come in, begin to eat. It was then that I lifted the food out. I held it outside of the coop. Despite watching their food fly through an opening that they could easily hop through, the chickens wouldn’t budge.

Sure, they pecked at the wire mesh that separated them from their goal, but they didn’t seem that eager to move.

I kept trying to show them that if they only hopped up to their roost, they would be free to the world and able to hop down, eat their food and receive a thorough chicken cuddle.

I clucked and sqanked, shook food, rattled dishes and gently encouraged the ladies to come out for a decade. The chickens did not emerge. We tried berries. We even tried the chicken persuader.

Yes.

Even the chicken persuader failed to motivate the chickens to escape the coop and fly into my wife’s chicken cuddling arms.

So, the chicken training you’ve been doing is really showing results.

She knows me so well. I was just about to make some sort of snarky retort when our ten year old neighbour saw us. She asked for strawberries (as she always does at this time of year) then asked us what we were doing.

I explained while demonstrating the actions I had taken. She crossed her arms and rolled her eyes with violent incredulity.

Jimmy! Why are you telling me this? Are you not smart?

She’s precocious, so I typically roll with it.

Ok smarty pants, what would you do differently?

Knowing that she has wild wiring too I interrupted her before she could even inhale.

Show me.

With incredible grace our pint sized critic calmly walked around the coop, unhooked a carabiner and opened the second door.

Jimmy, did you forget there’s a second door to the coop? Why’d you have to make things so complicated?

The chickens with their food in sight, waddled out of the door and into my wife’s welcoming arms. And we all lived happily ever after?

Nope.

Chickens are anarchists.

They were thrilled with their new found freedom and were very difficult to direct back into their coop.

But that’s a story for another day.

And if you ever need to cuddle a chicken, don’t rely on a chicken trainer. Look for the other way out.

You’ll get there.