Who Let the Chickens Out?

At least she admitteded it.

Maya went out to check for eggs (a ritual repeated about 13 times a day even though we only get 4 eggs), and came back looking a little sheepish.

“I didn’t mean to let them out, mama.”

It took a long, long time to get those wiley chickens back into their coop.

You have to give them some credit. For a bunch of bird brains, they did pretty well, discovering that Maya’s egg check would be the perfect time to fly the coop. Out the nesting boxes they went, over Maya’s head, and away into the yard-of-many-good-things-to-eat.

I played the role of the not-so-wiley coyote. At one point, my head even turned red and leaked steam when the chicken I cornered somehow flew up at me and then ducked down under my legs.

What I wouldn’t have given for a well-balanced anvil….

Or at least a babysitter, so that every time I went for (and usually missed) a chicken, I had to scoop up a toddler amid her attempts to eat rocks, run behind the tool shed, or bite her sister.

Phew…. and all I wanted was to go cuddle a friend’s sweet new baby…. soon!

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