To put it lightly, I have a scary bunch of birds. They're friendly and assertive to the point of being over-the-top. Whether unleashing them in the morning, or simply walking outside at any point, there are birds flying from every direction directly at faces/onto heads/shoulders (flying on top of each other if there's no available square inch on which to sit), not to mention mobbing feet so that it's impossible to move. If I had $5 for every time I've ended up with scratches near my eyes, cheeks, and inside my bottom lip after a simple outdoor excursion, I'd be well-off. Sprinting doesn't work, either. 
By that point, they've gained so much momentum from running/flying after an attempted escapee, stopping suddenly means instant death for the unlucky individual. Guests aren't an exception. I'm truly afraid my little crazies will injure everyone from UPS personnel, to the mail lady.
That's only the beginning! An open door to the mud room comes as an invitation to all 70-some chickens, ducks, and turkeys. Nothing's scarier than an aggressive oncoming flood of birds who act as a battering ram while you're trying to shut them out. Some literally push their way in. And the last thing I want is to be alone in an enclosed space with these feathered maniacs. It's nearly impossible to remove them, unless bribed with snacks.
Nearly everything is intimidated by vehicles, correct? Not these birds! After pulling into the driveway after a long day of errands, anticipating relaxation, such dreams are shattered by a flock en masse storming my car....immediately. Honking loudly to prevent them from getting flattened just doesn't work! The worst part? Praying they won't fly inside while you're vulnerable, which has happened in the past. Terrifying, to say the least.
As an avid flock photographer, I am required to practically lie down in order to capture the best angles. My beloved ladies, Marans particularly, seize the opportunity to do what they do best....bite through clothes. There are bruises and drawn blood everywhere on my body. I should win an award for the ability to hold still enough to take clear pictures, all the while being ripped apart behind the scenes. It's become an Olympic sport, in my opinion. Might I add that a certain little cockerel routinely perches on my back and munches my sensitive ears during photoshoots, as well?
Hens wing dance, tidbit, grow spurs, flog my legs when they feel it's dinner time, and crow. Roosters are wimps. A sudden death in the flock also means a sudden meal. In one instance, they didn't even wait for select victim to kick the bucket before digging in.
Is this normal? Please tell me I'm not alone here!
~Alex
By that point, they've gained so much momentum from running/flying after an attempted escapee, stopping suddenly means instant death for the unlucky individual. Guests aren't an exception. I'm truly afraid my little crazies will injure everyone from UPS personnel, to the mail lady.That's only the beginning! An open door to the mud room comes as an invitation to all 70-some chickens, ducks, and turkeys. Nothing's scarier than an aggressive oncoming flood of birds who act as a battering ram while you're trying to shut them out. Some literally push their way in. And the last thing I want is to be alone in an enclosed space with these feathered maniacs. It's nearly impossible to remove them, unless bribed with snacks.
Nearly everything is intimidated by vehicles, correct? Not these birds! After pulling into the driveway after a long day of errands, anticipating relaxation, such dreams are shattered by a flock en masse storming my car....immediately. Honking loudly to prevent them from getting flattened just doesn't work! The worst part? Praying they won't fly inside while you're vulnerable, which has happened in the past. Terrifying, to say the least.
As an avid flock photographer, I am required to practically lie down in order to capture the best angles. My beloved ladies, Marans particularly, seize the opportunity to do what they do best....bite through clothes. There are bruises and drawn blood everywhere on my body. I should win an award for the ability to hold still enough to take clear pictures, all the while being ripped apart behind the scenes. It's become an Olympic sport, in my opinion. Might I add that a certain little cockerel routinely perches on my back and munches my sensitive ears during photoshoots, as well?
Hens wing dance, tidbit, grow spurs, flog my legs when they feel it's dinner time, and crow. Roosters are wimps. A sudden death in the flock also means a sudden meal. In one instance, they didn't even wait for select victim to kick the bucket before digging in.
Is this normal? Please tell me I'm not alone here!
~Alex
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I hate to think they might be hungry. 
An enclosure might be a great idea, too. 
