“Remoted” – Day 418 (Saturday)

Chicken in the yard.

Around 6:00, Moose wanted to go outside for his post-dinner business, and as he rounded the corner into the back yard, I spotted a white bird in the driveway. From the front it looked okay, but the rear feathers were pretty messed up and pink flesh could be seen on most of the butt. The feet indicated it was a chicken. 

I rushed to close the gate so Moose couldn’t get near the bird. His vision is poor, so it would probably be purely an accident if he encountered it, but why take risks. Chicken followed me and tried to peck my shiny, brand new, navy blue loafers. Brand new as in, arrived Thursday from Prime Wardrobe and worn today for the first time, which, until Chicken arrived, was the highlight of the day.

After a few minutes, the chicken crossed the road. I do not know why. It went into the neighbor’s yard, and I was a bit relieved it was no longer my situation to deal with. 

Half an hour later, the dogs next door were barking like crazy, which is unusual. They are generally as quiet as statues. I thought of the chicken, and went onto the deck. Neighbor guy was at the fence looking into my yard with a puzzled look. I asked if the chicken was back, he asked if it was mine. Chicken came to me as if we were best buddies. Moose and Winston barked in the house. I texted the neighbors on the other side of me to see if they knew of anyone with chickens. Nope. 

Chicken in a box, pre-screen.

Chicken enjoyed a feast as it pecked in my yard, and the neighbor dogs were ready to knock down the fence with excitement. Growing worried about Chicken’s welfare overnight, a friend with several chickens was consulted. A Prime delivery box was lined with batting that was insulation from a produce delivery that had been saved because “someday this could be handy.” Reasons to be a packrat, chapters 11 and 12. 

Somehow, Chicken was coaxed into the box and the box moved to the deck. Multi-grain bread was pulled from the freezer and the oats and seeds flicked into the box. Cute, tiny peeping sounds came from the feathered guest.

After another series of texts with my personal poultry consultant, the box was moved to the enclosed porch and topped with a screen from the basement. I went back inside to get a bowl of water and discovered dog poop in the kitchen.

Houdini Chicken in a porch.

After a frantic search through the cabinets for a bowl, I returned to the porch where the screen was still on top of the box, but Chicken was wandering the porch freely. Chicken might need to be renamed Houdini. The plastic, non-breakable takeout bowl of water was a hit, with happy drinking and much flicking and eventually stepping into the bowl and spilling it all over the floor before having a poop/pee release. More water in a heavier bowl was fetched, but the bowl was clear glass and seemed to confuse Chicken.

Chicken was coaxed back into the box with a third, non-spillable but rather small dog water bowl. A child/doggy gate, heavier than the window screen, was placed on the box and the overlap arranged so Chicken’s head would not get stuck. The tiny peeping noises were growing in volume and tone and it seemed Chicken was stressed out or maybe it was me projecting my own stress. The dogs were still going nuts inside. 

At 8:00, the neighbors across the street arrived home. After their car was unloaded, I could hear talk of looking for the chickens. It turned out, they had gotten Chicken and a companion earlier today with plans of nursing them to health. It seems like the first thing they need to plan for is securing the fowl. Over two hours, they had both escaped the yard, and one had scootched under the gate to enter and exit my front yard and later, magically escape a box with a screen. The other one was found under a vehicle in a neighboring yard.

It was sad to see Chicken go back across the road, and unfortunate the poultry Air BnB accommodations were not used. In the end, the lawn was not finished from Friday night, and  I was left with chicken poop in the porch, dog poop in the kitchen, a wet porch floor, a wet box with poop and water-soaked insulation, and two confused barking dogs. It was the best Saturday night in the past year.