My Harrowing Chicken Experience

     

Last week, some family friends were going on vacation and they asked us to look after their chickens and cats. Let's just say that the cats were much easier to get along with.

I was given 'getting the chickens inside' duty. 

Now, I live in the country, but I've had minimal experience with chickens. In fact, they sort of freak me out. Not in the 'won't go near them' sense, but in the 'don't necessarily want to chase them down and grab them' sense. So, there I was, a country-girl wannabe who had no idea what she was doing.

First, I tried throwing some broccoli leaves inside, hoping that they'd follow it.

Nope.

In fact, one hopped in and brought it back out for the rest of them.

Second, I tried staring them down. I apparently wasn't very intimidating. I'm honestly not exaggerating when I say that I spent about five minute simply looking at them and willing them to go inside.

Third, I tried just telling them to go in. This didn't work either. I don't know why I actually thought that it would....

After a desperate phone call to my mother, I decided to try one last time. 

Turns out that throwing the solid part of the broccoli actually makes a noise that the chickens hear and follow. 

One night, however, that didn't work, either. 

I tossed in one of the vegetables that our friends had left for us to use for getting the chickens in. All of them quickly hopped inside. Except for one. It just stared at me as if to say do you really think I'm that stupid?!

I tried another vegetable. No use.

The only thing left to do was -climb inside the fenced area-.

I'm hoping that no one was able to hear me chasing the chicken around and telling it to please just go inside. I guarantee you that I looked ridiculous. 

Finally, he hopped in. After two more hopped out.

All in all, handling the chickens was a completely painless experience, and if I had to deal with them on a regular basis, I could get used to it. Except maybe roosters. Roosters are a whole other story.