Ended Official BYC Mini-contest - Tell us your funniest chicken story and win!

[sumi]

WINNERS ANNOUNCED HERE

This contest is brought to you by our BYC Sponsors
(click to view & support them)

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Hey everyone! 2014 is nearly over and we decided to ring in the new year on a humorous note. We would like you to share your funniest chicken story and if your story makes us laugh, you can win a free BYC 2015 Calendar!

RULES:

1. Post your funniest chicken story as a reply to this thread. Must be between 100-250 words.
2. Only one entry per member will be accepted.
3. The four funniest stories will each win a free 2015 BYC Calendar!
4. Have fun!

**WE WILL ACCEPT ENTRIES UNTIL THE 31st OF JANUARY 2015**​

 

[RonP]

I moved into a new to me "country home" when my oldest was just shy of 6.

A good friend decided that every 6 year old needs a pet, and a great learning experience would be hatching and raising chickens.

So he shows up on my 6 year old's birthday, with an incubator and 2 dozen eggs.

She diligently turns each egg carefully twice a day for the required time period.

I candle the eggs at the appropriate time interval, to see if indeed they are fertile.

I see nothing!!!

In a panic, I order 2 dozen chicks from a hatchery to arrive the day before the chicks are due to hatch.

I have a plan...

I place the chicks in the incubator with the unhatched eggs for warmth that evening.

My daughter wakes me up the next morning screaming with excitement!

She wants an explanation as to how we hatched 40 chicks from just 24 eggs!!

 

[chickengeorge45]

In the spring of 2013 my wife and I decided to purchas 3 chickens as a fun hobby and a way to have a supply of fresh eggs. We have had many tragedies over the past couple years and the last of our originals died about a month ago. Just before that we happened to be at the local garden center and they had pullets for sale. (this was at the tail end of OCT. 2014) I still had three chickens at the time two of which were not from the original group. So we decided to purchase two Americauna pullets. We brought them home and kept them in a huge birdcage that we were storing in our basement. About a month later I decided it was time to introduce them to my small flock. I put them in after dark as I had heard this was to best time to perform such an operation. A day later I opened the coop to find Jessie dead and Betsy cowering in the corner of the nesting box. I quickly pulled her out and brought her back inside to the cage in our basement. As she was now alone I could no longer allow her to be in the basement all by her lonesome so I brought the bird cage and Betsy upstairs to the kitchen. When ever I am outside I let the chickens out including my "kitchen chicken". Betsy the "kitchen chicken" was constantly being herassed by the others outside. Typically she is able to scurry around quickly enough to avoid them. On occassion they trap her and me being our only rooster I had to protect her. From that moment on we have been inseperable. She follows me every where I go in the yard. While the others forge she spends most of her time keeping track of me. We have developed such a bond that if I sit down outside she flies into my lap and plops down for a rest. If I go inside without her she ascends the stairs to the front porch and stands by the door squawking until I come back. Often in the evenings she cuddles with me on my lap in front of the fire watching TV. The other day I had left her out and I opened the door to find her doing her I want inside cackle. I opened the door to see what she would do. Usually I pick her up and bring her in. She walked in the house as expected cliking her nails on the wood floors. What came next was unexpected. She walked into the kitchen, then into her cage, pushed around the pine chips, nested at the bottom of the cage and puffed up and passed out. The poor girl was exhausted from an entire day outside. This has become a ritual. She is just about as well trained as a dog and equally as loyal.

 

[gimmie birdies]

My funniest story "My husband said I can hatch as many eggs as I want."

 

[Old Coop Home]

We were new chicken farmers and we acquired a hen with seven eggs to add to our 12 adopted chickens. My daughter, who was five at the time, patiently waited in the coop for each egg to hatch. She new each chick individually and got to know their individual characteristics including their bad habits as they grew into adults. There was one in particular that had a very rude habit as "he" got older. He was always pecking at the other chickens and trying to get piggy back rides. (For obvious reasons unknown to my 5 year old). My daughter informed me that his name was Mr. Pecker (sounds like Mr.Pecko) because he was always pecking at the other chickens. Because she is five her "er" is not well defined and as she was having a deep conversation with our family dentist, Dr. Dan, she told him about her favorite chicken (Mr.Pecko). He asks her if she said Mr. Pickle? She says no (Mr. Pecko). He asks again, Mr.Pickles? No, she replies. Dr. Dan gives me a questioning look and I am forced to say "his name is Mr. Pecker". And of course I had to explain Mr.Pecker's bad habits in detail to justify why my 5 year old daughter named her rooster Mr. Pecker. It brought Dr.Dan and his hygentist a good laugh and they of course ask about Mr.Pecker at every visit. Mr.Pecker is now 5 years old and the most gentle rooster we know. His name no longer fits his personality!

 

[chickincrazy]

Wow. One story? But I have so many! .......

One evening I was outside watching my chickens. I noticed that Vanita, my favorite pet hen, was in peril. A young rooster was chasing her. Apperantly she didn't like him because she was sqwaking and flapping and putting up a fuss, and running as fast as she could to get away from her pursuer. She ran and ran and ran, frantic because she couldn't get rid of that persistent little rooster. He was right behind her. I was wondering how long this would last when all of a sudden Vanita veered toward me, jumped into the air and flew right into my arms! The little barred rock roo just stood and glared at me for rescuing his girl. Vanita was happy to stay in my arms until he went away! It was so funny. I'll never forget the day when I " accidentally" saved my favorite hen!

 

[PrairieChickens]

Not too long ago, I was out in the yard working when I noticed our neighbor Don trying to shoo a chicken out of his driveway. Now, Don's a great neighbor, and we've told him more than once that he shouldn't feel bad about chasing chickens out of his yard if he wants to, so I wasn't bothered to see him clapping his hands and hollering at one of my chickens... Problem was, the chicken wasn't bothered, either! Don kept clapping and waving his arms and shouting, getting closer and closer to the daft little bird, but it just wouldn't move. Finally, they were toe to toe, Don with his hands on his hips in bewilderment, and the chicken staring up at him nonplussed, as if trying to figure out what this silly human wanted from it. It was about this time I realized which chicken was giving him grief, and I started calling out to it by name.

"David!" The chicken's head whipped around. "David! C'mere, boy!" The chicken jumped up and ran towards me, climbing into my arms as I scooped him up and talking to me excitedly. Don, already bemused by the chicken's behavior before, was now downright gobsmacked. As he watched me talk to and cuddle a chicken that comes when he's called, all Don could say was, "Y'got them chickens spoilt rotten."

XD


David Crowie

 

[Thassa]

My Mom and I took my husband's mean d'Anvers rooster to be processed last spring along with a bunch of excess roosters and my broilers. Somehow the little guy managed to get loose and was running around the barnyard crowing his fool head off when we went back to pick up my other birds. I told the farmer to not worry about him since he wasn't going to be much of a meal anyway. I figured he wouldn't last long in a new place without a coop to go into.
This fall rolls around and DH and I took our turkey to the same place to be processed. As we pulled in I look into the pasture by the road and low and behold, there is the little rooster running with about 30 hens! DH jumps out of the car and runs to the fence, the rooster runs from the other end of the yard to the fence and they meet up like long lost best friends. I went to check in with the farmer and commented about rooster being in with all the hens. He got a big grin on his face and said "he likes it in there".
DH can't wait to go up next spring to see how his little guy is doing.

 

[suezq223]

One day I sat down and logged onto Facebook. Right there on a local events and happenings page was a picture of a chicken. I thought "Gee that really looks like my Silver Cuckoo Maran, Maxine." Clicked on the link to read the story. Turns out it WAS Maxine. Apparently she had gotten out of my yard and another reader two blocks away had found her and submitted her picture in hopes of finding her absent-minded owner.

 

[certifiedchef]

This was an email I received from our neighbor and friend that watch our hens when we are away, the names have been changed to protect the innocent, the language has been edited....



Sunday morning, August 7, 2011: Went to check on the chickens first. I see they have plenty of water, but the water’s dirty and I need to clean out their little-pecker-water dishes. The girls are desperate to get out. I block them with my foot, enter the coop and shut the door so they can’t escape. I swirl their water around and start to clean out their little-pecker-dishes but after emptying them, I realize I’m a girly-girl and I don’t want to stick my finger in there to clean them out. I think, “maybe I’ll hose them out later”. At this point I turn to exit and realize the door to the coop is latched on the outside and I’m a prisoner in the darn chicken coop!

I’m claustrophobic and now I’m stuck in a wire coffin and I’m thinking I will have a heart attack because I’m sixty--three and I’m going to die in chicken dirt! There’s no use calling out for help. It’s 6:30 in the morning and "Bill" is out like a light with his T.V. blaring and even if he misses me after awhile, he can’t get down the steps in his walker.

I look at my options. I notice a wire attached to a ring and a hole in the door frame where the wire used to go through and attach to the latch that used to open the door. But the wire is broken and just laying there like something out of a Stephen King horror novel. Just last night I watched a movie on the Sci-Fi channel called See No Evil where this maniac locks this curvaceous in a cage and he has a fetish for plucking out eyeballs. I remember thinking, “How stupid! There’s got to be a way to get out of the cage you stupid, but now, but NOW,I’m the stupid in the cage and the girls are looking hungrily at my eyes!!

Despite my panic, I thought first about the gazillion dollars you spent on constructing the coop and I want to minimize any damage in making my escape. I look at the broken wire on the ring and think, “Maybe if I unwind the wire I can make a hook on the end and stick it between the door and the door frame and unhook the latch”. For the next twenty minutes while my heart is pounding and near bursting, I try this, but the wire breaks. Gosh darn CHEAP WIRE !! Well shucks! What else can I use?? Maybe something to pry the door open. I notice the decorative black metal trivet mounted next to the door to the chicken’s main living quarters. Heck! It’s mounted with screws!! Who the hell would mount a stupid chicken decoration with gee golly screws? Was this an earthquake precaution or what!

At this point I no longer give a gee willeker how many gazillions of dollars you spent on the coop, I’m in extreme panic mode and am going to rip this coop apart and get the gosh golly out of here. The girls retreat to the main living quarters while I throw my shoulder against the door again and again and again. After thirty or forty attempts, I realize I ‘m an old woman trapped in an over-built chicken coop. I mean, couldn’t you have just used staples? heck NO! You use submarine rivets and prison wire!

I’m NOT going to die here. I look around for other options. There is a cinder block under the chickens’ ramp. This is my last hope. I heave it against the door a dozen times, then a dozen more times and then, and then…. Freedom.

So, just want you to know things aren't the way you left them.

your neighbor