This particular morning, "Mr.P" made mention that a few of our chickens had seemingly found their way into his yard. He assured me that he didn't mind it, and that if he did he would certainly let me know. And, being that I know he doesn't use any pesticides or chemicals in his garden, I didn't "mind" to much either, well, as long as he didn't, he was a DOUBLE black belt after all. I smiled and thanked him, and reiterated that if in fact they did began to pose a problem, to please let me know and I would fix it immediately. He waved, and began to walk off, then turned and added, "they do like to dig up mulch don't they." This raised a tiny "red flag" so to speak in my "there might be a problem" alert center.
I decided to be pro, rather than RE active, and went in search of the "littles". You see, as I mentioned we have 10 chickens. And they range in age. The "Bigs" are the mature, predictable and easy to find, ANY-DAY-NOW layers. I say that in both a hopeful, as well as mildly expectant manner. There are 5 that fall into this category. Then come the "Littles" my adolescent, angsty chickens who spend most of the day "hanging out" insecurely in the woods and on occasion apparently "Mr. P's" yard. And lastly, there's the "baby baby" Belle, who currently resides in her very own private, and well lit "nursery" in our shed, at least until she gets a few more feathers and that tell tale teenage "me against the world" attitude so that I know she will have no problem properly defending herself against nature, and of course the other "click-ish" chickens.
I finally spotted the "littles" perched in a semi usual favorite spot of theirs right beside the goat's pen. It was nice to see that there was no "mulch digging" currently underway. Now where were my sweet "bigs"? Right here where they always are of course under the palmet... nope. Only Nugget produced herself from within the overhanging palmetto prongs with a guilty look upon her face as if to say, "it wasn't MY idea, I told them not to do it". And just then I heard a distant (and sad attempt if I must say) at a crow coming from the direction of Mr.P's yard. Deep within his yard I might add. I took only a brief second to scowl in disbelief before heading in the direction of the "wanna-be crow".
Sure enough, there they were, all 4 little culprits, seemingly "flippin' me their own unique and individual versions of "the bird" so to speak, while perched on, and partaking from, his birdbath. I shooed them back through the tree line and into our yard. As the goats and littles looked on. That's right, "let this be a lesson to all of you"! I thought to myself. And OH how it was.
I hadn't even gotten half way through the daily farm chores before noticing the absence of the bigs once again. I clawed my way back through the thick of the brush lined border that separated our two yards, and once again, there they were, mulch-mulch-mulching away. This time the "shoo" erupted into a scatter instead of the bee line flocking back into our yard as they had done before. The scatter led to a chase and the chase... caught the attention of two very inquisitive goats.
I had cornered the two "ring leaders" Dixie and Brewster and was just about to force them back through the thicket, when out popped a horned head followed by a large marshmallow body. Eve had come to see what all the commotion was and Story wasn't very far behind. I now found myself standing in my neighbor's driveway with 4 chickens, 2 goats and a PLETHORA of untouched greenery (lets not forget the mulch) at their disposal. I took a step towards the goats in attempt to scare them back from whence they came, but Eve just defiantly nibbled a vine that technically belonged to Mr.P, at the entrance of where her head had forced through the once natural barricade. She wasn't budging. They had found the "promised land" and, whether actually "promised" or not, they were cashing in.
Knowing Story to be a tad more skittish than Eve, she quickly became my target. I lunged toward her suggesting that she move back into the tree line, which she did, then circled around me and pushed right back into Mr.P's, all the while trampling new "holes" and treading new "paths" making it just that much easier to double back. After about 10 minutes of that, and fairly certain that my neighbors were watching (possibly even videoing for AFV by this point) from one of their windows. Like an aligning of the planets, the chickens had unsuspectingly moved themselves into position directly in line with the goats, and I had circled back just enough to where if I took a running start at the goats, they would have no choice but to turn and do the same to the chickens who would then either HAVE to run back into our yard, or face crashing into a parked RV. I made my move, and I may or may not have yelled "FREEEEEEEDOMMMMMMM" while doing so... don't judge my husband is Scottish.
5 seconds later, with only a few vines nestled in my hair, we were home sweet home. And the goats, in case they got any other crazy ideas, were immediately penned, while the chickens were lavished with food scattered strategically about OUR property, not unlike an Easter egg hunt, reinstating that we were in fact, the superior choice of yards (and mulch) with which to roost in.
Needless to say, the possibility of perhaps building a perimeter fence has been lovingly heaped back upon my husband's plate. Happy Valentines day baby....
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