First One In Bed

Rain or shine, our chickens have the run of the yard during daylight hours. As dark descends, some primordial chicken instinct causes them to head for their coop. They are usually rustling around on their perch and settling in without benefit of bedtime story by the tine Nyel or I go out to lock them for the night.

During these short, dark and stormy days, lock-down time often occurs when we Chicken Farmers are out gadding about. It’s hard to gear our lives to Poultry Hours in this modern day of electricity and automobiles and art openings and all manner of reasons to be out-and-about at the girls’ bedtime. We don’t worry about it, though, knowing that they are good girls and on automatic pilot with regard to their curfew.

Headed inside.  But, wait!  Wrong coop!

So we gave the girls not a single thought the other night when we attended the 6 x 6 Art Auction at the Heritage Museum. It was well after dark (like three hours after) by the time we got home. Nyel took the flashlight, headed out to lock up the coop and came back to report that we were missing two chickens. The door into the run had blown shut at some time during the storm, apparently when three of the girls were ‘inside’ and two were still out free-ranging.

“Did you call them?” asked Worried Farmer Mom.

Propped Open

I knew he was right. Once they’ve gone sleepy-bye, the girls are not easily roused. Standing out in the rain and calling them would be an exercise in futility. Or, quite possibly, the call would provide a verbal alert to the raccoons and other nearby predators that dinner-on-the-hoof is the Menu Special of the night.

Yesterday morning the two ‘missing’ chickens returned from their outdoor sleepover right in time for breakfast – a little wet and bedraggled but not a bit recalcitrant. There is a rock propping the offending door open now… so bring on the wind!