My husband thought it would be ok to let Stan out, that he would come back at night like the chickens. I don't see him around the house so I start walking to check on him. (I was not home when my husband decided all of this, so I am starting to spaz) Walked all around without spotting him. So enlist the help of my friend. He went to check on a rooster and hollered for me. "Stan has been in the chicken coop!" he proclaims. No way...There sitting on the ledge of the nest boxes is a large pea-poo. Brilliant idea. Follow the pea-poo. Around the yard, through the hay barn, in the machine barn, and finally in the back barn....Stancock. On a twenty foot rafter. Above a planter and rake crammed in the corner. So, being the overly panicked mother hen I am, I decide to retreive him right then so he can sleep on the safety of his roost. Now picture a very cheap 16 ft ladder balanced on top of the row crop planter. Then all 115lbs of me at the top of the ladder, coaxing Stan to come willing. Amazingly, no person or pea was harmed in the rescue attempt. The whole way back to his perch, Stan cuddled with me and did his pea-cluck ( what do you even call that noise?). My husband and friend followed with a discussion of my darn spoiled birds...