errant hen
The covid kitten - not the kitten with covid, the one adopted because of the long quarantine - is afraid of most things in the outdoors. Other cats in particular, but also birds and anything that moves. So it was a surprise when I heard some squawks and found him chasing a chicken out of our yard. The bird was power walking and flapping the way chickens do when they are stressed, and she made it safely out of our gate and into the parking lot.
I put a jumper on over my pyjamas and brought the kitten back inside before going out to see about the hen. I am not sure what I thought I could accomplish alone. I followed her and realised that she would just keep walking away from me forever if she could. What was I going to do, put her under my jumper? Hold her upside down by her legs? With limited chicken-carrying experience, I figured they must have sharp claws and pointy beaks that they would use in an emergency. It was a moot point - when she was confronted with a neighbor’s locked gate, she slipped under it and I immediately gave up.
My family had a complex relationship with chickens. When my great grandmother Wilhelmina sent her husband to fetch a chicken for dinner, he would wander out to the yard. I expect he hoped one of them would just drop dead so that he wouldn’t have to choose, but the timing was always off. After his wife became annoyed at the delay, she would walk out, grab the first one she found, chop its head off, and hand him back to her husband for cleaning. I suppose their marriage included pragmatism and compassion in equal measures.
I did want to be kind to the chicken, so I called the owners. They had previously entrusted me to look after their brood when they went away for a few days. It was an unfortunate affair that began with me finding all four dead in various poses in their yard like a scene from Hieronymous Bosch. They had bought six more, but they hadn’t asked me to babysit since then.
It was a bit early when I called, and they didn’t answer. So I sent them an email to alert them to the deserter. A few hours later he texted to say he and his wife were on their way over to form a search party. They brought several long bamboo branches, and I took a couple as well. It was easy to find her - a dog was barking furiously, luckily on a leash. We left the gate open and fanned out around her to convince her the gate was an attractive escape option. She agreed without much fanfare.
The neighbours were pleased. As a reward for my hen wrangling, they gave me six eggs and a few apples. Still, I am not sure they will put their chickens in my care next time they go on holiday.
