Well, we knew that there would be all sorts of stories to come out of our chicken-raising experiences. This is surely one that could have ended the whole series!
I remember yesterday, just after dark, that I didn't close the chickens in and left them to forage around the yard, just as they like to do. Since I was in Sacramento attending my cousin's kid's birthday, I called Paul, who stayed at home, to remind him to close the chickens in before the raccoons came out. When I get home, he's out in front. "Good," I think. "He can help me bring in these three sleeping kids." His eyes tell me he's deeply annoyed by this...or something else. He soon tells me he's been looking for chickens for an hour, "They're GONE!"
After I put the kids down, I go off with a flashlight and confirm what he says. I expect to see strewn feathers or at least a dirt pile where a struggle for life started/ended, but I don't see anything unsual. However, the chickens are not in our yard, nor are they in Nonna's yard next door. Paul and I shine the flashlight under her deck where tons and tons of old wood and building materials lay while we go over different scenarios about what could have happened to the chickens. Paul is so upset and angry at me and swears he's never getting chickens again; we're cruel and terrible guardians. He goes upstairs while I sit in the darkness listening for their cooing/roosting sounds. I get nothing. After about 45-minutes, I give up and go upstairs. As I pass Paul, he tells me that he's going to take a sledgehammer to the coup in the morning so I don't kill anymore innocent chicken-lives. A bit extreme, but I sense there is a little boy in that fury, upset about the unresolved lives of his little pets. I worry about how to explain this to the kids and soothe myself by researching different humane societies that adopt out chickens. Clearly this family loves raising chickens...
I go to sleep but am suddenly not tired. I can't believe I'm losing sleep over chickens! When sleep finally comes, I dream only about scenarios of finding chickens and hope to awake to hear their morning noises outside the window. However, when I do wake, it is still dark and 6am. I notice Paul's not in the bed and never made it, either. I wander around and find him sleeping in the basement with all the windows open. His ears are unusually aware; he awakes to tell me he was hoping to hear them during the night, wandering safely back into the yard so he could close the door behind them. I feel sorry for him as he's clearly fond and concerned about the chickens.
By 7am, the chickens would have started their normal routine of coming out of their boxes and starting to forage for food, waiting for me to come out and fill up their feeder and water. Hopeful and sad, I duck my head out amid getting 3-children ready to leave for school. Paul and I don't talk about it and he leaves for work. About 10-minutes later, he comes back in. "I heard them! They're in the corner lot! I think I saw two of them!" I run up to the neighbor's door and ring it. No one answers. I fly back. Paul asks what I'm doing. "I'm going to jump the fence and get them!"
"Get what, Mommy?" Ava asks. "The chickens," I answer. "What happened to the chickens, Mommy?" "They got lost last night." I go over my mother-in-law's fence and then over the 6-foot cyclone fence that separates her yard from the the next. Two of the chickens, Dos and Tres, are foraging under the rose bushes. It's clear that nearly 6-week old chicks can do something Paul & I didn't consider: fly....fly both far and high.
Hurray!! Within minutes, the two of them are back in the coup. I write a quick email to the neighborhood asking them to be on the lookout for Uno, the yellow-white one. So far, all that's come back is a note saying two chickens were taken from a different neighbor's yard by raccoons. Not encouraging, but we'll keep looking.
I do have to say, however, it is clear that these chickens are part of the family. After dropping off the kids at school, some mom friends were asking, with baited breath, about the chicken-saga. "These chickens have got to be in your holiday card photo this year," one mom ventured. I sort of have to believe that she is right!
