Ended Tell Us Your Funniest Chicken Story to Win Six Bags of Feed from Nutrena!

[bruceha2000]

and Jay-Jay the donkey, pasture protector

That donkey is just too cute!

 

[bruceha2000]

I counted 7. I started to panic. I counted them again. 7. ACK!

We have one of those stories too. The coop is a converted horse stall in an old barn. There is another stall on the left and a storage room, sometimes stall, on the right. Thus, we can see in from the front and both sides. The alley between the outside barn wall and the coop/stall is their indoor run. By the time we get out to shut the chicken door, the girls have already put themselves to roost (though Andromeda has decided on several occasions that the wall next to the coop in the room on the right makes a good roost). We usually do our "count to twelve" from in front of the coop but if it has gotten too dark for that we go into the room on the right because the roosts connect to that wall.

Well, one night my wife counts to eleven from the front. I count to eleven from the front. She went into the side room on the right and counted to ... eleven. So I bite the bullet and go in the coop since as it gets dark, all that hardware cloth makes it hard to see inside. The problem with this is they sometimes think that means they should come down and exit the coop so I try not to do it if I don't have to. I count to eleven from just inside the door. I went to the group on the left side of the roosts and counted to 5. Then I went to the right side and counted to 6. Regular, not chicken, math says that makes ... eleven. I was about to come to terms with the fact that one of them was lost when a head caught my eye. I picked up the bigger Australorp and one of the Cubalayas stood up from underneath her! Now one must recognize that all twelve girls were 2 days old when we got them in June, this wasn't a mother hen keeping a little one warm though the Cubalaya are small birds, currently about half the size of the biggest girls.

Knock on wood, we have managed to not lose any so far.

Bruce

 

[blondiebee181]

Okay, dunno if this counts but.....I was out in the yard the other day doing the daily chicken chore grind when my cat climbs over the fence into the yard and starts stalking towards the door to go inside. The chickens look up, but then turn idly back to their pecking and scratching. The ducks saw her and both of them got their little heads down and started waddling towards towards her in this defensive pose. I'm thinking...."wait a second, the song goes....the dog chases the cat, the cat chases the bird....'round and 'round the mulberry bush..." But here are these bold ducks stalking the cat! Finally the cat turned around and saw the ducks coming at her faster and faster....and she bounded the remaining length of the yard, leaped onto the deck and started pawing at the door to get in going "Scary monsters! Scary monsters!"

So I put her in. Ivy(one of the ducks) gave me this look like "We sure showed her" And shook herself. Those ducks never cease to amuse me!

 

[blondiebee181]

I never wanted a rooster. Not this time. I wasn't interested in breeding. Didn't want to hear the incessant crowing. Didn't want to watch my back every time I walked in the coop. So when I noticed two chicks developing combs I was dismayed to say the least. I had ordered all pullets. All kinds of angry thoughts coursed through my mind when I saw those small pink combs bobbing about my small flock.

The hubby talked me into keeping one rooster, so I had to choose between the two. As time passed, I watched the two. The smaller cockerel was a better looking rooster, and had nice temperament. The larger one was....well....just plain ugly from my point of view. Yet, this ugly guy seemed content to be the second in command and always walked about in his stately way. Little Joe was the smaller cockerel, Stan was the larger bird. The big guy was a talker and while he never crowed, he liked to talk to the ladies. His wing dance was not impressive as he tripped over his wings most of the time. Occasionally he'd knock over the pullet he was trying to impress.

On the other hand, Little Joe was a dancer. He had the smooth moves that impressed all the girls. He'd scrape his wings across the ground and all the pullets would gather around. One day he grabbed a hen in an attempt to mate. She resisted so Little Joe grabbed her head and dragged her around. I didn't like this. No, I didn't. But I understood chicken behavior and kept a low profile.

As time passed, Little Joe caught my eye more than once with his mating technique. While he had a mighty fancy wing dance, his dragging-by-the-head mating was terrorizing the girls. Stan never interfered as he knew his position among the flock. He'd simply walk among the flock, his calm manner soothing the just traumatized pullet.

Finally, I tired of Little Joe's brutal mating manners, and gave him to a man down the road. So Stan became the cockerel of the flock. At first, he seemed unaware, or maybe he was being cautious. Holding his head high, he continued his stately walks among the pullets. Occasionally he chat up a pullet with a tiny morsel of food, then assume his role as flock protector. He walked with head high and eyes watching the sky.

By the next morning, Stan grew braver. He chatted up several girls and attempted a wing dance which resulted with him knocking over several pullets. He fanned his tail to show the girls how fine his feathers were. He raised his wings to display his massive chest. I had to admit Stan was a fine looking cockerel. While he was not going to win at any show, he definitely had presence.

And he had personality. If his chattiness couldn't attract a gal, he rub his wattles along the ground. Of course something red being dragged across the ground made all the girls run to him. Then he'd attempt a wing dance with the usual results of knocking them down like bowling pins.

Stan did not give up though. Tired of failing at the wing dance, he developed his own style of dance. I discovered this one day while weeding a nearby flower bed. I saw a small dust cloud rising in the pen and wondered what was going on. The coop was oddly silent as I snuck in for a closer view. What a sight I saw.

Circled by his hens, Stan was dancing. He kicked his feet out one way, then another way. His head waved back and forth, and for a moment I thought he was having a seizure. He grabbed a twig of hay and waved it about. Then he did this little hopping dance only to kick his feet out to the side. Then he bowed his head and spread his tail only to hop about and kick his feet to the side as he waved his sprig of hay over his head.

Several pullets were so impressed they squatted right there and then.

Thus, Stan became THE MAN.

OMG. This. Wins. SO FUNNY! I love it! So happy for Stan! What a great story!

 

[blondiebee181]

One day I went down to the coop to sit. I simply pulled up a chair and watched my beautiful chickens. After about 20 minutes, they stopped caring about me and continued doing whatever they were before I showed up. Right away I noticed this little black hen. (She was the favorite of the rooster so her back was bare) She was walking around the coop picking up feathers and placing them on her bare back. It didn’t matter what color they were, she wanted them. With black, blue, white, partridge, and buff, she had a back of many colors. She continued to do this for quite some time, though it came to a point where every time she added a feather, another would fall off. She was trying to replace her missing feathers with the feathers that she found around the coop. I wish I would have gotten a video of her doing it as it was very sweet yet so funny.

1 year later, she isn’t the rooster’s favorite anymore so she now has her own beautiful black feathers growing from her back.

So Precious!! Poor little gal!

 

[Eggsoteric]

My funny chicken story:

Hubby wasn’t exactly “thrilled” when I got my first chickens, however, he (curmudgeonly) relented.

While working around the farm, Hubby decided to take a break and sat in a chair near the chicken yard. I continued working when I heard him calling. I peered around the corner and there he was in the chicken yard with one of my hens gently tucked under his arm. I thought “Awww, he’s finally bonding with my chickens!” That “Hallmark” moment ceased when he yelled, “CAN I GET A LITTLE HELP HERE!?!”

Seems one of the hens snatched up a baby black snake that unwittingly slithered into the pen. With her prize in her mouth and the other hens in hot, noisy pursuit, Hubby sprang to action. He snatched up the offending hen with one hand and held onto the snake with the other hand; once the hen released the snake the less than amused snake latched onto her wattles. This is where I came in. I had to pry open the snake’s jaws from the hen’s wattles. Once the snake’s grip was released, Hubby released the hen. Not wanting to get bitten, I let go of the snake. The snake quickly seized onto the skin between Hubby’s forefinger and thumb. I then had to extract the snake’s grip from Hubby (which proved not easy what with tears (of laughter) in my eyes).

Snake was released unharmed; hen wasn’t happy; Hubby had tiny puncture wounds and I was wishing I had a video camera.

 

[blondiebee181]

My funny chicken story:

Hubby wasn’t exactly “thrilled” when I got my first chickens, however, he (curmudgeonly) relented.

While working around the farm, Hubby decided to take a break and sat in a chair near the chicken yard. I continued working when I heard him calling. I peered around the corner and there he was in the chicken yard with one of my hens gently tucked under his arm. I thought “Awww, he’s finally bonding with my chickens!” That “Hallmark” moment ceased when he yelled, “CAN I GET A LITTLE HELP HERE!?!”

Seems one of the hens snatched up a baby black snake that unwittingly slithered into the pen. With her prize in her mouth and the other hens in hot, noisy pursuit, Hubby sprang to action. He snatched up the offending hen with one hand and held onto the snake with the other hand; once the hen released the snake the less than amused snake latched onto her wattles. This is where I came in. I had to pry open the snake’s jaws from the hen’s wattles. Once the snake’s grip was released, Hubby released the hen. Not wanting to get bitten, I let go of the snake. The snake quickly seized onto the skin between Hubby’s forefinger and thumb. I then had to extract the snake’s grip from Hubby (which proved not easy what with tears (of laughter) in my eyes).

Snake was released unharmed; hen wasn’t happy; Hubby had tiny puncture wounds and I was wishing I had a video camera.

BAHAAAAAAA!!!! Sad for the hen and your man, but I agree....totally funny as hell!

 

[bruceha2000]

after that day she would come every morning and peck at the kitchen french door for us to open the door to her and she would jump in her basket on the counter to lay her egg while we had breakfast !!

How very convenient! No worries about them freezing outside or make multiple trips to see if it was "egg time" yet.

 

[HungryMabel123]

I had previously told a story about my old rooster named Dudley, but I want to win this so bad I thought I'd share another one of my funny chicken stories. I resently just lost one of my favorite silkies Pocahauntes sadly, but boy was she one silly chicken! She loved to follow me around the yard, and check out everything I was doing! Anyways, one night, I was up very late watching tv, and I fell alseep on the couch. I was alseep for some time, but when I awoke, I awoke to Pocahauntes sleeping on my head and a poop stain on my shirt! I had forgotten to lock up the girls, and Pocahauntes must have walked throught the doggie door looking for me! She must have fallen alseep just like I did! I returned the sleeping beautfind to her "bed", and locked the coop so no more chickens could get in the house. Overall, Pocahauntes was one funny girl.

I hope you liked my story!!! My chickens would love the free feed!!

 

[bruceha2000]

The snake quickly seized onto the skin between Hubby’s forefinger and thumb. I then had to extract the snake’s grip from Hubby (which proved not easy what with tears (of laughter) in my eyes).

You sound as sympathetic as my wife! Years ago I was digging a 4' deep trench next to the foundation for a drain pipe from the roof gutters to the foundation drain clean out pipe (**). The side collapsed and buried me to my thighs. of course the shovel was not in reach so I called for my wife. She came out to see what I needed and handed me the shovel ... after she went back in the house to get the camera.


(**) NEVER DO THIS. When tree roots clog the pipe that drains the foundation drain to "open air", the water from the gutters has to go somewhere. In my case, that is the drain in the basement floor, also connected to the foundation drain, installed in case the washer ever overflows. It never has, but the basement has flooded 3 times due to root blockage.