Chicken Adventures

Feeling all ambitious during A’s nap, I thought I would make some brownies. I called my friend for the recipe of the “wummy wummy bownies” she brought over a while back.

As she was telling me the ingredients, I remembered that Kevin had just sold all our eggs that morning, so I was going to have to go out and collect some. There weren’t any eggs in any of the boxes, but there was a big fat hen nesting in one.

I suspected she was hoarding all the eggs, and I was right. She wouldn’t move, so I had to reach underneath of her. While I was essentially trapped with one hand holding the baby and the other under a chicken, another hen snuck up on me, fluttered up and snagged Brielle’s sock right off her foot! She promptly ran out into the pen, and since I don’t fit through the chicken door, had to go around.

It wasn’t that big of deal, but I didn’t want the chickens to eat the sock, and didn’t really want to lose the sock either. They were all maniacally chasing each other, playing Keep Away, like they always do when one of them grabs a tasty morsel.

Fortunately, I am bigger and faster, even with the baby and three eggs in my hands. In the ensuing melee however, one of the California racing chickens escaped.


After regaining the darn sock, I chased her (still with infant in arms) for a few minutes, but was afraid Roscoe, who was raptly watching all the action (and probably drooling and planning his attack) would get her before I did. I was about to go lock him in the garage, and resume the chase, when she flew straight up to the top of the pen and mocked us from 8 feet in the air.

“Phooey on her”, I said to myself, and just locked Roscoe in and went inside to make my wummy bownies, leaving the stubborn hen to contemplate her hard won freedom.

It’s a good thing we weren’t out of milk or butter too! Can you imagine what might happen if I tried to milk a cow?

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