A few weeks ago, we picked up some new pullets (young female chickens) from a guy about an hour from here that I have bought many birds from over the years. We have them in a little calf hutch right next to the chicken coop, so the existing birds could get used to them. After a week, I began to let them out during the day, so the older chickens and new babes could get to know each other. All has been well, until Thursday evening, when the new birds wandered out of their yard and into our back yard. There, they were startled by a dog, and two of them blasted through the gate and into the flower bed next to the driveway. One of them quickly found her way back, but the other refused to budge. I tried herding. I tried scaring, I tried getting Bravo to push her in the right direction. Evening was gathering, and she was not going anywhere.
Here is a picture of the new girls before one took off on an unwarranted adventure. They are mixed-breed birds, bred to lay blue or green eggs, which I think will be fun. The missing bird is the one that is very dark, located towards the front center.
I waited until well after the sun had gone down because chickens don't see well in the dark. My plan was to find where she had tucked herself to sleep among the cosmos and zinnias and grab her, then put her back with her flock. My plan worked well. At first. I found her pressed against the foundation of the house, perched on a boulder. Holding my big, heavy flashlight with one hand, I carefully reached through the dense foliage and wrapped my fingers around her small, warm body. Unlike most chickens who freeze in the dark, this one bolted. We searched for a while, but couldn't find her. I didn't sleep well that night, listening to a barred owl calling nearby and hoping it didn't find my hapless bird.
In the morning, I was delighted to see her strutting amongst the flowers, safe and sound. I felt sure she would find her way through the fence and back to her flock. I checked the garden a few times during the day and didn't see her again, so I assumed she had found her friends. But at dusk, when I went out to tuck the pullets in, there were only eight where there should be nine. The missing girl was nowhere to be found.
Another night of listening and worrying, thinking about that little lost bird all alone and vulnerable. There was no sign of her amongst the flowers in the morning, and I fretted thinking about her. I ran some errands (checked out a neat vintage market that happened near me and came home with this fabulous egg basket), and while popping home for a moment to pick up something I had forgotten, I heard the unmistakable "pew pew" sound of a young chicken. I found her in the front yard, not a care in the world, scratching amongst some gardens. I tried to catch her, but I failed. Again. I put out a bowl of water and some feed and watched as she ate and drank.
Later that afternoon, I enlisted the help of Rachel, Evans, and the Owlet. Armed with a big net, we attempted to nab the runaway. She eluded us at every turn. Finally, she streaked across the lawn and dove into a thick bed of Hosta. I waded in after her and caught a glimpse of her dark feathers, hunkered down deep amid the wide leaves. I knew I had to be bold and decisive with my chicken-catching technique, so I braced myself and went in hard, with both hands, elbow-deep in foliage. My fingers gripped her tightly, pinning her wings to her body. I was triumphant and lifted her up and out of the greenery. She squawked in protest and tried to wriggle free, but I kept a firm hold, lifting her over my head like a prize fighter raising their hands in victory. Not only was I holding my (expensive!) pullet, I was holding a good night's sleep in my hands, because I knew that I would rest well knowing she was safe with her flock.
It felt good to put her back in her hutch with her friends. I'm happier when my pullets are more at peace than in peril!
