We’ve been trying to allow the girls (our Chooks) to spend free ranging time outside the coop/run. Unlike our son’s boxer, Max, who appreciates chicken sushi, our boxer, Remus, is (so far) gently curious. The girls fly under him, strut under his nose, peck his paws when they’re getting grub and Remus does nothing but watch. And he sometimes quivers. But, for the most the chickens, have so far, been safe with him. They don’t venture too far from him. Until today.
Today, three of the girls, Nancy (named by me), Pretty Hawk (grandchild named) and Spot (me again), slipped under the garden fence into the pasture.
We have recently expanded the grazing area for these guys.
because they do a great job of keeping the grass trim and honestly? I love to watch them roam, and romp, and butt heads and really, they do frolic. Who can resist watching great frolicking? So, when the chickens Thelma and Louise’d it to the other side, I was a little worried. Not only were they now in the presence of four livestock creatures who could break out in frolic at any moment, but there was mucky winter ‘pond’ land and on the other side of that mess, the blackberry forest. I have a cool looking pair of slogger shoes to muck around it, but had serious misgivings about that blackberry forest. I opened the half pasture gate behind the chicken coop and ran, (well as much as I can run) after the chickens who raced from me. Either dashing because their first taste of freedom was exhilarating or because I was ‘running’ after them. Scary sight I’m sure.
One grandson arrived on the scene. He chased Spot while I was after Nancy. Pretty Hawk didn’t head for the blackberry forest preferring the grass of the pasture instead. As grandson one and I were each trying to coax our perspective chickens outta the forest because, really, no one wants to venture in. I heard, “The Goats are free!” AH! No! ! I’d left the gate open. I quickly deduced two lost chickens was a sad loss but not as sad as the livestock. Grandson one and I lumbered/ran and in his case sprinted, to the garden.
In the garden were all four of our four-legged animals. At some point I had bellowed into the house and called for my husband who was trying to work, for help. He appeared as did grandson number 2. We developed a plan while we ran, flapped our arms and tried to keep the creatures from eating anything. Just past our vegetable garden are the front gardens full of everything poisonous to them..hydrangeas, rhodies, ivy, peonies, daisies, etc. So at all costs, we didn’t want them to reach that area.
I was close to panic mode, worried about Nancy and Spot and PrettyHawk, fretting about the four in the garden. Suffice to say there was much yelling, and stomping and body gyrations. My brilliant husband got the sheep/goat food and a grand child grabbed the metal bowl. As soon as the four heard the clinking of food in the bowl, they stopped and started for my husband. He began to lead them to the garden pasture gate, while I went to close the one by the chicken coop. And, then Remus arrived on the scene.
Remus, apparently unhindered with various farm critters, likes to pause, and point, from time to time he’ll give a chase, but he never engages. But, the critters aren’t as sure as Remus. As we coaxed the sheep and goats, the grandkids tried to wrangle the chickens, but one remained elusive. Spot. And, Spot didn’t want to run anywhere Remus was. With PrettyHawk and Nancy safe in the coop; they’d merely sauntered back the way they’d come, Spot was the only one left. Remus stood in the path of the open coop.
The sheep and goats ran from Remus too, even though he only stood in one spot. While the sheep and goats were led back to the pasture by the clanging of food in a metal bowl, it took throwing chicken food at Spot to direct her home.
After a good 30 minutes of combined solo and tag-team efforts all animals were finally back in their correct homes.
Chasing is good exercise. The panic level of anxiety was good for the heart I’m sure. But, hoof prints in the garden beds..maybe not so