Chickens in the Mist

How many black walnuts does it take to destroy the top netting of a chicken run? Five. Five and the remnants of a hurricane.

When we went out to tuck the chickens in tonight, a routine we like the call CBT (chicky bed time), the top net was flapping in the wind. There was only one hen, Sammie, pecking about in the run. But don't worry, they hadn't escaped or been blown away, Bob had surprisingly led them inside where they were high and dry and ready for bed. The engineer heroically repaired the run in the driving rain while my pansy butt ran back inside the house. Hey, it was cold...

So why, prey tell, if they're smart enough to get in out of a hurricane, are they not smart enough to go in during a hail storm? It must be one of nature's mysteries. But not as mysterious as the ever moving chicken feeder.

You see, The Pirates have this chicken feeder that is just a small metal dish that screws on to the top of a canning jar. You flip the jar upside down and out comes the food. It's as big as the chickens and certainly weighs more than they do. Each morning I fill it and set it in the same spot. Each evening it's mysteriously been moved to a new spot. Sometimes as much as five feet away from it's original position!

After spending countless hours attempting to capture and document their behavior just like Jane Goodall, the engineer's theory is that the chickens grab the vessel by the beak and drag it. Have I mentioned the engineer isn't from around here? He was born on a rock in the middle of the ocean. And it wasn't Key West where they actually have chickens. Perhaps his theory is flawed? I mean really, any farm girl can tell you chickens can levitate.