First, let's get the facts straight in order to establish context:  I live in the burbs – no farms within miles of me.  So it's all the more strange that a chicken should come walking up on my porch.

As a mom brought Erin back from a sleepover recently, Erin went inside and I stayed outside to talk to the mom about some computer problems they'd been having.  As we chatted about how she really should trash Windows98 and upgrade, this chicken walks up. 

Seriously.

She stopped in mid-sentence and said "Do you know that there's a chicken in your yard?"  Nay, kind lady, I did not.  I was flummoxed as the Brits might say.  A chicken outside a barnyard is something you just stare as you might stare at a space alien.  At least to judge from our reactions anyway.  She then proposed that I catch it.

And then what?  That's the problem with catching a chicken – you have the problem of what to do with it.  That's not a small problem.  Obviously it belongs to someone; but who?  Ringing doorbells with a flapping, sqwawking chicken in your arms seems a poor way to open a conversation on a Saturday morning.  In the end, we decided to leave it alone and just let the chicken strut and peck along its merry way. 

I saw it this morning making its way along the opposite side of the street.  Maybe it's like a mailman kind of chicken.

Advertisements