My daughter didn't latch the door to the run properly this morning. She came running in panicked because the door flew open in the wind, and Puck got out.
I, still in my blue satin night gown and pink satin robe, slipped on my sparkly flip-flops by the door to round up Puck and toss him back into the run. I get to the back yard and find that she didn't bother to close the door after he'd gotten out, and in the time it took her to come tell me, and for me to get back out there, several more chickens had gotten out. So I was chasing several chickens around the coop, robe and nighty flapping in the breeze, shouting at my daughter to hold the open and to make sure the chickens who were still in the run didn't get out. She panicked and failed at the second half of that task, jumping whenever a chicken came near. So I (yelled, I'm sorry to say. I was ticked) told her to go back to the house.
So I ran round and round the coop and run with a stick herding each chicken over to the door and then back into the coop. Occasionally an already contained chicken would make moves to re-escape, and I'd have to leave off chasing the current chicken to make sure the other didn't escape. It finally occurred to me to shut the chickens in the coop as I got them back into the run. So, while several chickens were still in the yard I was herding the chickens in the run up the ramp and into the coop and shutting the door behind them.
Then I resumed herding the loose chickens back into the run, and into the coop.
Finally, all but one chicken had been contained
The loose chook was my banty rooster Jerkface.
I chased him ALL OVER the yard. He found the *one spot* where the fence hadn't been secured properly (I made a mental note to grump out the guy who did our fence. He did a really crappy job) and ducked through it to the outside world.
So, now I, in my satin nighty and robe and sparkly sandals, am running around the side yard like a mad woman, waving a stick at a small chicken. Next to the road. Which is juuuuust down the street from the highway.
I manage to herd Jerkface back into the yard and over to the coop. Getting him to go back into the run was tricky, but I did it.
I released the rest of the chooks back into the run, went back inside the house, and let my daughter know that she was no longer allowed to mess with the chickens.
I, still in my blue satin night gown and pink satin robe, slipped on my sparkly flip-flops by the door to round up Puck and toss him back into the run. I get to the back yard and find that she didn't bother to close the door after he'd gotten out, and in the time it took her to come tell me, and for me to get back out there, several more chickens had gotten out. So I was chasing several chickens around the coop, robe and nighty flapping in the breeze, shouting at my daughter to hold the open and to make sure the chickens who were still in the run didn't get out. She panicked and failed at the second half of that task, jumping whenever a chicken came near. So I (yelled, I'm sorry to say. I was ticked) told her to go back to the house.
So I ran round and round the coop and run with a stick herding each chicken over to the door and then back into the coop. Occasionally an already contained chicken would make moves to re-escape, and I'd have to leave off chasing the current chicken to make sure the other didn't escape. It finally occurred to me to shut the chickens in the coop as I got them back into the run. So, while several chickens were still in the yard I was herding the chickens in the run up the ramp and into the coop and shutting the door behind them.
Then I resumed herding the loose chickens back into the run, and into the coop.
Finally, all but one chicken had been contained
The loose chook was my banty rooster Jerkface.
I chased him ALL OVER the yard. He found the *one spot* where the fence hadn't been secured properly (I made a mental note to grump out the guy who did our fence. He did a really crappy job) and ducked through it to the outside world.
So, now I, in my satin nighty and robe and sparkly sandals, am running around the side yard like a mad woman, waving a stick at a small chicken. Next to the road. Which is juuuuust down the street from the highway.
I manage to herd Jerkface back into the yard and over to the coop. Getting him to go back into the run was tricky, but I did it.
I released the rest of the chooks back into the run, went back inside the house, and let my daughter know that she was no longer allowed to mess with the chickens.
