Yesterday, a few Australorp pullets jumped the fence into our rear neighbor's yard. He had peach trees and a garden; what's not to love? I kept an eye on the pullets as they pecked at rotten peaches. When they headed towards his garden, though, I decided to hop the fence, as well (in as ladylike a manner as could be managed). I cornered the chickens and tossed them, squawking, back over the fence.
In the early evening, it happened again. It was almost suppertime, and New Daddy was working from home. I called for him, so that I would not have to jump the fence again. After he got the chicken back in our yard, we decided that it was time to clip some wing feathers (only on one side: the lopsided flight is what handicaps them). We started looking for the net, but with no success. We were able to capture some inside the tractors, and we got nine of the pullets clipped. But with supper imminent, and the kids' bedtimes approaching, we had to go back inside.
We had closed up the clipped pullets into their tractor, so we knew that the unclipped pullets would be sleeping outside the tractor, where we could easily get to them in the darkness. Oh, and the rooster; he added his own bit of flair to the Cover of Darkness Wing-Clipping Ceremony.
At 10:30 PM, I donned my headlamp, New Daddy grabbed a flashlight, and we went tromping into the backyard. Distant lightning and an earlier misting of rain heightened the drama. New Daddy instructed me to turn off my light so that he could catch the chickens unawares. He grabbed two on the first swipe! One after another, we clipped their wings. But as we progressed, they seemed to awaken a little more, and New Daddy had to chase down a few. As he walked them around the tractor, I grabbed Mr. Tableson as New Daddy grabbed the last pullet. Mr. T started squawking, and the pullet started screaming. What a duet!
The pullet must have thought that she was the last chicken on earth, and she was not going to give up that position quietly. She continued screaming as New Daddy grabbed her and wrestled her to the ground. She didn't hush until I closed her beak.
And we headed inside. Ten minutes had elapsed. "That was pretty fun," we decided as we grinned at each other.
In the early evening, it happened again. It was almost suppertime, and New Daddy was working from home. I called for him, so that I would not have to jump the fence again. After he got the chicken back in our yard, we decided that it was time to clip some wing feathers (only on one side: the lopsided flight is what handicaps them). We started looking for the net, but with no success. We were able to capture some inside the tractors, and we got nine of the pullets clipped. But with supper imminent, and the kids' bedtimes approaching, we had to go back inside.
We had closed up the clipped pullets into their tractor, so we knew that the unclipped pullets would be sleeping outside the tractor, where we could easily get to them in the darkness. Oh, and the rooster; he added his own bit of flair to the Cover of Darkness Wing-Clipping Ceremony.
At 10:30 PM, I donned my headlamp, New Daddy grabbed a flashlight, and we went tromping into the backyard. Distant lightning and an earlier misting of rain heightened the drama. New Daddy instructed me to turn off my light so that he could catch the chickens unawares. He grabbed two on the first swipe! One after another, we clipped their wings. But as we progressed, they seemed to awaken a little more, and New Daddy had to chase down a few. As he walked them around the tractor, I grabbed Mr. Tableson as New Daddy grabbed the last pullet. Mr. T started squawking, and the pullet started screaming. What a duet!
The pullet must have thought that she was the last chicken on earth, and she was not going to give up that position quietly. She continued screaming as New Daddy grabbed her and wrestled her to the ground. She didn't hush until I closed her beak.
And we headed inside. Ten minutes had elapsed. "That was pretty fun," we decided as we grinned at each other.
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