Well, not quite but… A few days ago, Jenny was acting strangely, or at least stranger than normal. She had gone out to potty upon getting up, and had not wanted to come back in. I had noticed some debris on her muzzle, but given that she digs, roots, and otherwise is into dirt and mulch, I hadn’t paid much attention to it.
Then, completely against type, she wanted to go back out. Not merely asked, but was dancing in a frenzy to get back out. Being as how I had an armful of laundry at the time, I decided rather than risk an accident if she wasn’t feeling well to just let her out. Something told me, however, to just drop the laundry as fast as I could and get outside.
Upon heading out the back door sans laundry, I saw Jenny jumping and darting at something dark that was standing very still. So much so that I thought it dead, and wondered if she had gotten a particular neighbor’s cat that would not be terribly missed by me—and how to best to quietly dispose of the remains.
Headed over while mentally rehearsing my best innocent wolf routine, I realized that it wasn’t a cat as the first quick glance had suggested, but was something avian. A small buzzard? As I got closer I realized that it was one of the great neighbor’s young roosters. [Side note: my immediate neighbors are broken up as the really good/great neighbors, the good neighbors, the junk neighbors (who don’t actually live there, just leave junk in the yard), and the not-good-at-all neighbors.]
Yet closer examination revealed a very much plucked rooster who was terrified, but still had the sense not to move, a pile of black and white feathers hidden by a jog in the fence, and a somewhat frustrated but very focused (and happy/in-her-element) Jenny.
First things first, I got Jenny back in the house, though she was very reluctant to go in. Then, I went back to the chicken who screamed when I tried to pick it up, and moved over to the lee of a fence post still screaming. At that point I decided that the best thing to do was to go get its “mom” as I figured it might just die of a heart attack if I picked it up. “Mom” came over, grabbed it, and it screamed again—until it realized it was safe and then it just laid its head on her breast and moaned.
How the young rooster got out of the coop, over their garden fence, and over my yard fence is a mystery. I could see it clearing one fence, but not all three. Sad to say, it died a few days later, apparently being picked on by the other chickens. My neighbor is not upset with myself or Jenny, but —like me—quite curious about how it got over all three fences.
As for Jenny, well, she was disappointed to loose her prey but had a great time with it while she had it. She also seems to be developing a taste for chicken…
LW
