Meet a friend of mine Pam Sani. I met her through my Right Brainers group. She too is a soloprenuer who creates jewelry. We have become fast friends even though she lives on the other side of the nation from me.
You all should see this Swarovski necklace she made. It is beautiful. Here is a picture.
She sent me the most hilarious story today and I just have to share it with you. After all, we all need a good laugh, right? So here is her story.
“I walked into the kitchen to refill my glass, glanced out the window and saw one of the neighbor’s hens tearing up the backyard. Normally, I would just call out that I seem to have a chicken, and could she do a headcount, and we’d have a laugh and hand her over the fence. Nobody was home; just me and Phyllis the Chicken. (I think it was Phyllis. They have five of the same variety, and they are all identical.)
We feed the quail that hang out in our yard, so we have a 50-lb bag of chicken scratch handy. I made up an impromptu water dish, and gave Phyl a handful of scratch.
I did learn that it is impossible for a human being to be near a talkative chicken without making chicken noises. I am a very good mimic. I don’t know what I said to her, but she decided I was really interesting, and that she should follow me closely as I was clearly a very wise hen indeed.
I had a bit of chicken wire leftover from a project. My thinking was that I would make her a tiny pen and incarcerate her until her family got home. Cue the “I Love Lucy” theme music. I grabbed some tall garden stakes and proceeded to work them into the lawn at the edge of the compost pile. Phyllis did not like the look of these stakes one bit. She protested and pecked at the stakes. I turned over some compost, and she promptly forgot about me and went wild for all of the lovely little soil-dwelling critters in the compost.
At this point, I started trying to wrestle the coiled up bit of chicken wire. I would get one end around a stake, and the other end would spring back and violently hurl itself at me. Repeat at nauseum.
I finally gave up on the whole “build a chicken playpen” idea, and went inside to phone my next door neighbor. I explained that the problem wasn’t that I couldn’t catch the hen; just that I didn’t want to take my eyes off her while I was trying to corral or return her. Jolene, my neighbor, offered to drive around to Phyllis’ front door and see if anyone was home, or leave a note if they weren’t. Driving may sound funny, but it was 90 degrees out, and our neighborhood is laid out kind of funny. Chicken lives on the next block; our backyards butt up against each other. We live on a North-South street, and the road is very hilly and winding. The East-West street is the main road through the area. It is also uphill that direction to get to Phyllis T. Chicken’s house. On our side of the fence, there is a world of predators which Phyllis has never been exposed to. Our street is the last street before you get to a very natural area with the river and giant rock outcroppings. Coyotes, hawks and eagles are a big threat, as are the many dogs being walked along the river trail.
Jolene returned to report that no one was indeed home, but the note was left. She also grabbed up my recycling bin and insisted that we stuff ol’ Phyllis inside. I agreed and scooped her up. We had another scrap of chicken wire which was just the right size for a lid. Jolene was worried that our captive would just push the lid off. She wanted to put a rock or something on it. I knew Phyllis wouldn’t mind her incarceration if as long as she could see out and had something to eat and play with. There were two holes on each handle of the bin. My husband is also an electrical engineer, so wire is not ever far out of reach around here. As luck would have it, there were pre-cut pieces on the patio table. I laced them through the handle holes and secured the wire lid. The whole time, our captive thought that this was a grand game. She was cooing and making little interested whirring noises, and was very happy being the center of attention. I had given her a small stick to play with, and she was happily picking it up and trying to give it to me in a lame game of “fetch.”
I was relieved when the phone in my pocket rang, with one embarrassed chicken owner on the line. With a little maneuvering, we managed to pass the bin o’ chicken over the fence. The other four hens crowded around Phyllis and demanded that she tell them everything about her adventure. We found the likely escape spot at the end of the tall wooden fence and plugged it up with the chicken wire.
I was glad to be safely rid of the chicken, and was even more glad to change clothes and go take another shower. Chicken wrangling really takes it out of you.
After all of that, I slept like a baby.”
I hope you all enjoyed the adventures of the escaped chicken, Phyllis as much as I did. This story nearly had me on the floor with laughter.