Chickens in the dark

It’s the evening of the Fourth. It has just gotten dark and the local fireworks display is about to begin. Earlier in the evening, while it was still light, we had let the chickens out from their run into the backyard. By now they should have returned to their coops. I go out to lock them up, but when I look down from the deck, I can see they are scattered all over the yard. This is strange. They don’t like to be out after sunset. Their gate has somehow closed itself, locking them out. Finding and returning twelve frightened chickens in the dark is going to be a problem and, to complicate matters, the rockets red glare and attendant explosions at nearby Gaunt Park are due to start any minute.

I shine my flashlight on the ground and talk to them in reassuring tones as I try to lead them toward the chicken run. It works and I am able to guide a couple of them into one of the coops with just the beam of light. The rest of them have become confused and are hung up in the fence. I set the flashlight on the ground and pick one up. I drop her inside the gate to Chickenland and shine the light on the door of the coop. She catches on and goes inside. I have to repeat this routine a number of times until I have gotten all of them that have been lined up watching from along the fence. But I still don’t have twelve.

I shine the light under the deck, but I don’t see any chickens. Then I remember that when they get caught our after dark, they sometimes will roost in the large lilac in the middle of the yard. I spot a black one on a lower branch. I pick her up and put her in the run. She is happy to follow the light inside.

I check the bush again. I know there has to be another chicken in there somewhere. Finally, I spot her. A Leghorn, pure white and easy to see in the dark, but roosting so high I had missed her. She is about seven feet up in a tangle of branches. She is one of my tamer birds, used to being handled, so I don’t expect her to give me a hard time. I talk to her and she coos back, but, working at such a height, it is really difficult to untangle her without causing injury. I get her to climb onto my forearm, lift her out and show her the way home.

Most of the chickens have ended up in one small coop. I have to move some of them in order to avoid mayhem when the sun comes up. For each chicken I pluck off the roost in one coop and place in the other, I shine the light so she can see to hop back up on the roost. It is amazing that this all works so well. They seem to know what I expect and give me their full cooperation.

Now it’s time for a head count. I have eight in one coop and four in the other. This will have to do. As I bid my darlings goodnight and lock the doors, the fireworks begin.