Big Bertha

We’ll call it the great chicken caper of 2020. A friend texted me Saturday afternoon with the news that a mutual friend was moving and needed to rehome 13 chickens and a coop- was I interested? Of course I was! Laying hens are a beautiful thing when you have three kids that have returned to the nest due to Covid and think omelettes at 4 AM is normal, usually with 4-5 eggs. They are; after all, athletic and in their early 20’s, but I digress...

In case you were wondering how you catch 13 chickens to rehome them, let me explain in simple terms. You grab friends and family members, a net and start running in circles like, well, like a chicken with its head cut off. If you are lucky, which we were, you can outsmart the birds and get them to run into the cage. This worked with several before they caught on.

Then, there was big Bertha the runaway. She went into the cage once, realized her mistake immediately, and somehow squashed herself into a small enough ball to fly out the top, and head for the hills. She was good and gone. That’s okay, we had caught 12, and we knew she would be back. Eventually, even the ones responsible for the eggs in your omelette get hungry.

In the meantime, we had a very large coop to move. This involved flat bed trucks, a tractor, lots of engineering minds, and young kids with generous hearts. We loaded it up and drove it across town.

Still, no big Bertha.

I drove back, primarily because I had left my phone, and there, sitting in the middle of the yard looking mighty proud, was the elusive bird. I explained to her in chickenease that although staying may be a good plan, it was just her and the Fox left for the night and did she really want to take the chance? She contemplated. She got up and started to walk, I followed. She led me around the house, I called to the other wranglers who came towards us nonchalantly, she ignored them and kept right on walking - into the open cage! We had outsmarted her. The chicken was trapped and was on her way home- sans fox. I’d like to say she is grateful for her capture. What she is, in reality, is mighty pissed off. She refuses to leave the perch and she has had her back to me for nearly 24 hours now. The alpacas are not impressed and regularly walk by the coop as if to say, really, bird, you know she’s going to win.

Tomorrow’s offerings from the bock, bock, booccckkkeeetttt include all the leftovers from last night’s salad and some strawberry heads. I reckon she’ll be eating out of my hand by lunchtime.

We are so grateful to our small town farm family for always having our backs, for treating us like gold, and for sharing the fruits of their labors when life changes. May we all be so blessed. I’ll keep you posted on my relationship with Bertha.