I like Chickens. I like their egg production, their lack of neediness, their ability to put themselves to bed and their quiet clucking and scratching as I garden next to them. However, I have never really admired them for their intelligence. I have seen them come in through my kitchen door and them flap around in panic unable to go back out through it when I wave a broom at them. They also don't seem to have remembered that they will be chased by a maniac female with a broom as soon as they put their beaks into the kitchen. But be that as it may I am being bettered by a chicken, a hen a
Gallus domesticus.
The story so far; I wanted chickens. I wanted them scrapping and pecking round the garden, I wanted free range happy hens who could come and go as they pleased. My neighbour didn't. She wanted tulips. And a lawn. And open french windows, without the risk of chicken dropppings in front of the television. Bizarre I call it but hey, there we go. My chickens did not confine themselves to my garden and therefore needed to be penned with a run. All was well, relations with neighbour were restored to their pre-chicken state and my hens were happy enough in their shed and fenced off field. Until a chicken went AWOL. Just one. She disappeared one morning and returned that evening. Neighbour one made no comment, I stayed quiet and hoped that the children had just left the gate open. Then it happened again. And again. I re-fenced higher, I doubled the wire round the gate, I blocked up the tiny gap between the fence and the wall. Hen went happily to bed dreaming of tulip bulbs no doubt and I relaxed. The next day she had gone. Neighbour two (a chicken lover I am relieved to report) has now christened her Charlotte and Charlotte makes herself quite at home over there during the day, coming quietly home with the dusk. The only problem with this arrangement is that neighbour one returns from holiday next week and I need to find out where Charlotte the Houdini hen is getting out. I have watched her (but she sits contentedly in her garden while I observe her) I have set other spectators to check "but watch discretely" I find myself saying to them "she knows that you're spying on her otherwise". They are similarly baffled. There are no remaining holes, the fence is too high to fly and I'm pretty sure that they haven't been tunnelling. I would now believe that she could open the gate except that even I can't do that from the inside! And it is securely shut in the morning. The chicken is looking smug and I am looking a fool. Any ideas as to how the hen does it would be gratefully received.
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| Charlotte, the Houdini Hen |
I like Chickens. I like their egg production, their lack of neediness, their ability to put themselves to bed and their quiet clucking and scratching as I garden next to them. However, I have never really admired them for their intelligence. I have seen them come in through my kitchen door and them flap around in panic unable to go back out through it when I wave a broom at them. They also don't seem to have remembered that they will be chased by a maniac female with a broom as soon as they put their beaks into the kitchen. But be that as it may I am being bettered by a chicken, a hen a Gallus domesticus.
The story so far; I wanted chickens. I wanted them scrapping and pecking round the garden, I wanted free range happy hens who could come and go as they pleased. My neighbour didn't. She wanted tulips. And a lawn. And open french windows, without the risk of chicken dropppings in front of the television. Bizarre I call it but hey, there we go. My chickens did not confine themselves to my garden and therefore needed to be penned with a run. All was well, relations with neighbour were restored to their pre-chicken state and my hens were happy enough in their shed and fenced off field. Until a chicken went AWOL. Just one. She disappeared one morning and returned that evening. Neighbour one made no comment, I stayed quiet and hoped that the children had just left the gate open. Then it happened again. And again. I re-fenced higher, I doubled the wire round the gate, I blocked up the tiny gap between the fence and the wall. Hen went happily to bed dreaming of tulip bulbs no doubt and I relaxed. The next day she had gone. Neighbour two (a chicken lover I am relieved to report) has now christened her Charlotte and Charlotte makes herself quite at home over there during the day, coming quietly home with the dusk. The only problem with this arrangement is that neighbour one returns from holiday next week and I need to find out where Charlotte the Houdini hen is getting out. I have watched her (but she sits contentedly in her garden while I observe her) I have set other spectators to check "but watch discretely" I find myself saying to them "she knows that you're spying on her otherwise". They are similarly baffled. There are no remaining holes, the fence is too high to fly and I'm pretty sure that they haven't been tunnelling. I would now believe that she could open the gate except that even I can't do that from the inside! And it is securely shut in the morning. The chicken is looking smug and I am looking a fool. Any ideas as to how the hen does it would be gratefully received.
Have you considered the possibility of teletransportation? Beam me up Gallus Domesticus.
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