Like chicken do you?
Yes so do I.
I do not however like my chicken running hell for leather up my road like I am wielding an axe or something, when all I have done is come home from fricken work for lunch.
I have been running a hen house on and off since I was about 2. See that picture up there ⬆️⬆️⬆️? That is me and my Bestie. I was showing her my chickens. If you get the feeling she was afraid, you are probably right. I may have been dragging her through the chicken pen. (Sorry Kerry, but I am thinking seeing I am now a fairy god mother to your daughter … We are all good 😉 )
Our chook pen these days is named Hencock Hilton. It took Mr MMM two days to erect the garden shed shelter let alone the rest of the resort. So our chickens live in quiet lavish surrounds.
Until this week there was only 5 of them. Originally there were 6 but one disappeared in a wild storm. (I imagine sucked up into a tornado or something spectacular like that).
Being that the 5 little lovelies that still call Hencock Hilton home are bantams, Mr MMM decided to buy a few more larger hens to up the egg supply, and support his eggs Bennie addiction.
As it turned out due to his taking the kids with him to collect the 3 new chickens, he ended up with 4. The 4th hen, a white one had won the heart of our eldest daughter. For what reason I am yet to figure out because it really was like a fucking poltergeist.
I sized it up with concern as she ran madly around Hencock disrupting all the residents, but tried to ignore my first thoughts to call her Roast.
I had completely forgotten about the new hens when I arrived home for lunch today. That was until I pulled into the drive way and Roast was flapping her wings attempting to take on the Kluger in the driveway.
I lept out of the car and attempted to catch her.
She crapped all over the place and even ran smack bang into the closed gate. Unfortunately the gate didn’t slow her down and she took off in the other direction. Before I knew was discovering a new found skill ; running up a god damn hill after a fucking chicken. To make matters worse I needed a pee.
Anyway at my usual puffed state of 57 seconds, I stopped and yelled out ‘run girl run, or you will be someone’s dinner’.
I headed back home relaying the story to Mr MMM on the phone. He said, don’t worry about it. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten her.
Fricken right there Mr.
Anyway, on arriving home this afternoon, Roast was still on the run.
We thought we heard scuffling out front tonight whilst we were munching our chicken pies. Sadly on investigation it wasn’t Roast trying to sneak back home.
We are heading to bed tonight with the firm belief that Roast the bat shit crazy white hen has GONE. Last seen running like a mad woman up our street.
If anyone finds her they can have her. She may require a stat dose of Diaz to keep her in a decent mental state however.
If you are unwilling to do this may I suggest CHICKEN PIE?