one cluck forward, two clucks squack!

on Houdini hens and the human heart

The chickens are making me nervous.

They’ve been unpredictable.

They live life on their own terms.

The punk rock boy in me would love to call them anarchists but they have far too rigid of a hierarchy for this.

Most of the day, I’ve been attempting to get clear on how their social structure mirrors that of people.

I can’t tell if they’re Hells Angels or just prison birds living life where orange is the new squack.

Like members of the 81 crew and prison people, they give few shits about the rules of polite society yet at the same time have a very rigid hierarchy.

I’m leaning towards prisoners. They seem to believe that their coop is Stalag Luft III.

Yesterday I arrived at home to find all five fully free from their enclosure. They were cavorting around the yard, digging up everything and anything Laura’s planted so far.

It seems that they slipped out through a door that I likely left open hours earlier.

I called the children down to help.

With three of us, spirits were light and working together, we corralled them quickly. With all five out of the coop, we kept the gate open. The first couple were easy to catch. Then things got interesting. We’d chase one chicken towards the open gate then two escaped.

One chicken in, two chickens out.

Three chickens in, one chicken out.

It was a kind of chicken cha cha.

One cluck forward, two clucks back.

But with five chickens out, we took a lot of risks, worked together, accepted our losses and just kept trying.

Contrast that with my experience from this morning.

This morning I looked up from my coffee to find one intrepid chicken balancing on our clothes line. How did that bird get out and whatever possessed her to pretend to be panties?

The answers to those bird behaviour questions are above my pay grade to provide.

BUT

The problem remained the same: There was a bird on the loose, one of the lay-dees had flown the coop.

With both children sleeping, I was on my own.

The approach one takes to a single loose bird is dramatically different how one would deal with a fully freed flock.

With a flock, I’d take risks. Some would go in while others would step out. With a flock I’d take bigger risks, make bigger moves and cover a lot of ground quickly.

With a single bird on the loose?

I’m constantly afraid of going too far and making things worse by freeing more of these creatures of chaos and destruction.

It’s kind of like getting to know someone new.

When we first get to know someone, we don’t have many birds in the coop. There’s really nothing to lose. Things flow freely and it’s a game of easy come easy go.

With someone you’ve known longer, you’ve had most of the thrills of the big, risky, moves of grand gestures and open doors. You’ve got a few birds on lock. A single bird on the loose creates a bit of chaos. Sure, it’s a risk having a single bird running around your backyard, but it sure is lively!

And that liveliness gets exhausting and inconvenient.

Today?

I chased that single bird around the coop a dozen times. The cluckin’ thing both tired me out and made me late for work. This agent of chaos didn’t ruin my day, but she tried.

Tired of running and moist with sweat, I gave up. Go get eaten by a raccoon you piece of shit, I thought to myself as I turned back to my breakfast.

Five minutes later, I checked back with the coop.

All five hens were safe inside.

The Houdini hen was back where she belonged.

I ignored her and she took care of herself.

It's a strange dance, this business of locking birds in, whether they're in a coop or just in your life. Sometimes the tightest grip and the frantic chase just make them bolt. And?

Sometimes, you just have to turn your back, pour another coffee, and trust they’ll find their own way back to the flock.

Or, at least, stop pretending to be panties on the clothesline.