The Great Escape

We’d been planning it for weeks. I, the rooster-still-known-as Amelia, was appointed commander. We knew Mother would be upset, but sometimes a chicken just needs to rebel and have a bit of freedom. We’d been slipping feed to the cows and plotting with them- an infinitely problematic process since the cows haven’t read nearly as many books as us where someone had to plan an escape from captivity (we’re actually starting to think that they can’t read at all…), nor have they seen the movie Chicken Run.  We had to wait for the perfect conditions. We hoped Mother wouldn’t suspect us at all. We didn’t want her to think that we were bad, ungrateful chickens or anything.

Yesterday, we felt like all the pieces had finally fallen into place. We sent Ernest off to send the signal to the cows. Being less intelligent than us chickens, it took them a while to realize that he was crowing the special call. Then, they finally figured it out. Just like we had planned, they came running down the hill and straight into the fence around our yard!

Not having access to any engineering books, we hadn’t anticipated the way that the fences would fall. We certainly didn’t expect them to fall IN! Luckily, we all managed to escape getting squished by falling fence panels OR stomped by cow hooves. And that’s when we made a run for it!

Unfortunately, Mother’s interfering cousins just happened to be driving down the farm road when we made our bid for freedom. They went up and told Mother that we were out in the field and here she came… At least she brought snacks.

Mother was VERY upset with the cattle. She gave them a stern talking to about the importance of keeping us safe from foxes and big bad neighbor dogs. The young bulls were mad enough that they wanted to rat us out as the masterminds of the whole thing, but Woolly Bully, Jr, the big bull, told them that we would get our just rewards in due time.

Then Mother tried to put our yard back together. We felt a little guilty for making her worry, so we obediently put ourselves back in the yard for her. We started to feel even more guilty when we realized that the braces that held the fence together were completely bent and useless. She had to use zip-ties to hold the fence together, but she knew it wouldn’t last very long.

A few hours later, Ernest was crowing like he always does. He was running through his entire repertoire of songs when he accidentally crowed the signal we’d taught to the cows. We looked around in a panic to see if any of them had noticed. All of the cattle had moved toward the creek, except for Woolly Bully, Jr. He was still laying in the grass near the coop. He lumbered to his feet and sauntered over to the fence. He looked us all in the face and then leaned his considerable weight against one of the panels.

It was enough to break two of the zip-ties so that the fence panel tipped sideways and got stuck, leaving a quite large gap in the fence… certainly large enough for some of those big bad neighbor dogs to get through. Well, we panicked! Before we had been ignorant to all the dangers that lurked about when Mother wasn’t in the field with us, but now we knew that we were in real trouble. I rounded up all the girls and pushed them towards the stand of trees in the middle of the field. At least there the big bad dogs might not see us.

Just at that moment, Mother’s sister happened to drive by. We hoped she had seen that we were in trouble and that she would go get Mother to save us. We weren’t disappointed. Here came Mother to the rescue… again. She realized that the fence wasn’t safe, for us or for the cows, so she put us all in the coop and took the fence down.

It fell to me to admit that we were behind the whole disaster. Mother was disappointed that we would try to deceive her, but she was glad that we had admitted it and relieved that no one was injured (or worse). And we earned our punishment: we now have to stay in the coop until Mother can replace the fence that we so carelessly caused to be destroyed. We will accept that, as it’s only fair.

And we’ll try really, really, really hard not to plot revenge against Woolly Bully, Jr.

See Mother’s side of the story here.

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4 Responses to The Great Escape

  1. Sharyn says:

    Thanks for the smile, I try to see things from the girls point of view, but sometimes I’m just too dense, or too tall, to get it 😉
    Love the header! Now I have header envy…

    • Glad we could make you smile. I am a firm believer that therapists should prescribe farm animals instead of anti-depressants! I mean, when was the last time an anti-depressant supplied someone with breakfast?

  2. Chai Chai says:

    I love these kind of posts – thanks.

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