I raise chickens. I keep about 30 laying hens year-round for the delicious eggs they provide our family.
The other day we had a BIG snowstorm. The system included a lot of lake effect snow which really added to the snow totals. There was just enough wind to create nice drifts that went over my boot-tops as I checked on my ladies for the day.
Most of the chickens opted to stay inside the coop during the snowstorm – smart move. However, one brave soul decided that she didn’t want to stay inside and preferred to play in the fluffy, beautiful (blowing and pelting) snow. I was walking back to the house when I spied the rogue bird…completely stuck in a snowdrift. She was buried up to her neck, calmly waiting for me to rescue her.
“Why yes, Mother, I thought I could wade through the snow and look for seeds and bugs like I normally do! Now please can you help me out of this drift?”
So like any amateur chicken farmer, I picked up the crazy hen, checked her for injury and finding none, stuck her back into the coop with her friends. She fluffed out her feathers and prepared to tell the other ladies about her adventure…or so I thought…
About halfway to the house I had a “feeling.” I turned and looked over my shoulder. The snow was blowing in large flakes out of the East, pelting my face and sticking on my eyelashes. I spied movement in the snow, and sure enough, the crazy chicken was back at it, wading through the drift.
I love my chickens. They are funny and spunky and delightful. But sometimes they are downright nuts.
“Girlfriend, it’s every chicken for herself!“
And I hustled my chilly bottom back into the house where I belonged.
P.S. – no chickens were harmed in the creation of this blog post.
P.P.S. – seriously, she’s fine, here’s a picture!