Chicken Wrangling

"You have to be smarter than the animals." neighbor Mike explains during one of our conversations.

Such a seemingly simple concept. And true, I suppose, after what we learned about chicken herding. (Ha, give us some slack, we aren't big time enough to have cows or anything, chickens are about all we have to herd around here!)

Those little puffballs we pictured a few weeks back grew really quickly. We bought them when it was warm- it had been 75 or so for a few days and we just knew winter was over. As soon as we brought them home and started building Chicken Palace, however, it started snowing. Yes, actual snow and ice and rain and every bit of uncomfortable weather Winter could muster for its last little hurrah.

While the little chicks started out in a brooder (metal tub) they quickly outgrew their surroundings. It was too cold to put them outside, too unsafe to keep them in the machine shed. And so, in desperation, we made a circle of chicken wire in the garage, put hay down, and counted the days until we could set them free outside.

One day I came home to find that all of the little guys were picking on my big guys (my five yellow, cute ones grew about three times as fast as Phil's!). Apparently their size made them less able to join in the "pecking order" fights, and they were just getting trampled. I decided then and there that this would be the last day for those chickens in the garage. They needed air, grass, space. Our books say that they peck at each other when they are bored or too confined. They were simply growing too quickly.

That night we separated the 5 big guys from the others, and planned on getting up early to free the other 44.

The next morning, after clearing a path for the birds, we carefully and slowly opened a gap in the chicken wire, expecting them to rush out to freedom. Immediately they smushed together at the back of the pen. Phil and I glanced at each other- this was very strange! Phil picked up a skinny board and started waving it around behind them "Time to go outside chickens! Come on! Ooooooutside!" Momentarily they scattered, and then found another little spot to cluster. After a few minutes of coaxing without much response, we simply rolled up the chicken wire altogether. The birds moved quickly to the exact center of the straw in one clump.

It was quite odd to us that they wouldn't want to leave, but then again, they had never been out of the garage. Maybe they needed to be coaxed out with a little more force. Phil grabbed two wide boards, crouched down, and started trying to push the chickens out of the garage. It worked for a few feet, until one hopped over the board. Then another ran around a board. Yet another ran under the board. And then all at once they scattered, hopping over and running under and before he could blink they were back in the center of the hay.

"Chickens! It is SUNNY outside. There is FOOD outside!" we reasoned. "Look! You belong out there!" They blinked at us, unmoving.

So we both picked up wide boards. I could cut them off at one side, he could herd them from the other. Each attempt would yield us a couple of birds all the way to the garage door until they escaped back to "safety". They were getting pretty riled by now (not to mention us!) and had started to scatter. About six of them actually climbed into the roll of chicken wire- smashed between two layers, claiming safety. Though this was funny, and a bit sad, Phil used it as an opportunity to grab them two-by-two and carry them out of the garage. He plopped them on the dirt next to their food and water. You could almost see their discomfort as they sat there, unmoving, like "Wow, this place is BIG!"

"See chickens! THEY like it out there! THEY are playing in the grass!" We point angrily to the six chickens standing awkwardly on the dirt pile, imploring the others to see the wonders and joy that would await them if only they walked outside.

By this time, it had been about an hour of attempts, and 6 whole chickens were outside. The rest were either huddled on the hay or strewn throughout the garage on or behind various tools. We decided that there would be no easy way- we would simply have to catch each one and drag it outside. The following hour (yes, hour) consisted of chickens fluttering about and the two of us pouncing, missing, and pouncing again. We had to shut the breezeway door, because a few of them had figured out they could walk through the breezeway and end up in the garage again. The garage door stayed open, and occasionally I would see one walk slowly, almost like nothing was going on, toward the garage door. As soon as it hit that threshold, it would run with wild abandon to the hay circle. I could almost hear it squeal "olly olly oxenfree!!"

Two and a half hours after we started the Freedom Project, all of the chickens were out of the garage and huddled against the wall of the house. They stayed there- unmoving, for about 5 hours that day. They were outside, and I wasn't too worried about them running away, for obvious reasons.

...to be continued tomorrow - the best is yet to come!