Why did the chicken cross the road?

Boy, it was hard to get up this morning. The sky was a little darker because rain is predicted. My husband, Larry, told me only one-tenth of an inch, but it's pouring outside right now and looks like we could get more than that. My quads were burning and I was tired at 6:30am when the pups woke and wanted to go out. Larry said he'd take them, so I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep. After they all got back in bed, I laid there until about 7:20. I felt so guilty, I just got my ass up; threw on my clothes, grabbed a bottle of water and my iPOD, and hit the road. On the way up our driveway, I started to text my sister, only to find one from her she sent at 6:15am. "Time to get up sleepy head," she wrote, "good walking". She said she believed I'd discovered the joy of walking versus exercise, and to "keep it up". I smiled at that, and texted right back that I was up and at 'um, and I think she's right about the walking vs exercise thing. It was cloudy and damp, but it hadn't started raining yet.


I saw one of my neighbors head out running ahead of me. I'd seen her on the road many times. She and her husband are younger than us and they have three school-age kids. Their kids are the only ones on our street. As we passed on the road, we exchanged "Good morning", and went our separate ways. I don't know why, but this first encounter with her while I was also exercising made me feel good. I've always been in a car when I passed her running with her rock-hard calves. I secretly patted myself on the back.

As I was starting to pass the horse farm, I spied a very fat little squirrel perched in the crook of a tree limb that hung low over a lovely moss-covered stone wall. He was munching away at something, and I told him out loud that he'll need that later, so he better put it away. He made me laugh.

As I passed the horses, all out again today (but none came to see me; just looked up in acknowledgement), I spied a bird in the road aways down. I wondered if it was one of the chickens I had seen the last two days. Sure enough, after passing the duck pond, I saw that it was one of the black and white "mottled" chickens with a red crown. I don't know if it's a hen or a rooster. When it saw me coming closer, it started back across the road towards the others waiting in their usual hiding place. I stopped and waved it on because it paused in the middle of the road like it was thinking, "What are you gonna do to me?" After waving it along, it started walking back towards the others still huddled under the brush and then stopped at the edge of the road right in front of me looking like it was just going to peck something in the sand. "You're not going to hold me up", I said, and walked around it to continue my walk. But, as I passed, I took a good look at them and asked how they were doing? "Where do you live?" I said out loud. There were six: three creamy light yellow, one brownish-red, and two black and white mottled with red crowns. One of the black and white and one of the yellow hens had no tail feathers and their rear ends looked like raw hamburger. It tore at my heart and as I walked away I tried looking for food I could bring back from the road for them on my return trip.

I kept wanting to turn around because I felt a drop of rain here and there, but I kept going. My goal this morning was just to get  to the turn in the road with the River Birch trees on the corner. The corner came up faster than I expected, and I felt accomplished in reaching it before turning around to go back home. About half-way back, it started to sprinkle. I prayed to God to just let me finish this walk without getting soaked. When it started to rain, I told God, "It's ok. I actually like being wet as long as I'm warm, but could you hold off on the downpour until I get home please?" Then I passed the chickens again. We're leaving for our lake house in South Carolina tomorrow, stopping to visit my best friend in Annapolis along the way. I just couldn't go away for two weeks without trying to help out those poor chickens.

So, I stopped at the first building I came to at the horse farm. The chickens were in the middle of nowhere. This was the closest location they could have originated from, but I wasn't sure these people even had chickens. There was a light on in the little building to my left as I entered the only gate off the road that led to houses. I always thought it was an "out" building, but I looked in the window and saw a toddler in a high chair. Wow, I thought, somebody actually lives here. It's so cute! A very nice young woman with a Spanish accent opened the inner door and I told her who I was. I talked about the loose chickens down the road, but she told me there were no chickens kept there. She suggested I go to the farm next door, which I did. I'd wanted to walk down this other farm's driveway for a long time but never did. The farm has "pick your own" berries, but also sells squash and potatoes. I met a man who said he didn't own the farm, but name-dropped the houses in the immediate area, so I knew he was more familiar with the families here than I. He didn't know anybody who kept chickens either, but I asked him to keep them in mind in case he heard of anyone looking for their lost hens or just wanted some nice looking birds.

I thought this was all I could do to help the poor lost soon-to-be "roadkill" or fox food hens, but then I remembered the farmer who plows our driveway in the winter. He lives on the section of road around the corner past the River Birch trees. I called Bill and said, "I don't know if you're interested in this or not, but...", and told him the whole story. "They're really nice looking hens, Bill, I'd really hate to see them get killed or just freeze to death. They're already starting to look pretty beat up." He said there was a guy near him who had a couple hundred chickens. He'd call him today and let him know about the birds. "Maybe they're his," he said. "I hope so, Bill, we're going away for two weeks and I just want them off my conscience." He laughed and said he'd make the call. I thanked him and walked home in what became "real" rain and arrived home soaking wet. A neighbor down the road came out of his driveway in his truck and offered me a ride home, but I said, "No thanks. I'm wet already. I actually like being wet in warm weather, and am taking advantage of what's left of this wonderful weather." He said he knew what I meant, and we said "Bye!". I felt so good being able to help those poor hens before we leave tomorrow.

Why DID the chicken cross the road? Because she can!