My daughter and her husband recently traveled for a long weekend, leaving me in charge of their two preschoolers. Actually, I split the four days with my other daughter and her husband. Still, it was quite the responsibility, but one that I knew I would enjoy. We were also in charge of their chickens.
My daughter left me detailed instructions for the children and the chickens. I have kept the children multiple times and know their routines. The chickens? Not so much.
The family purchased their current house less than a year ago, and it came with a deluxe chicken coop with an attached run. Unfortunately, the previous homeowners took their chickens with them when they moved. My daughter ordered her own chicks in February—two of one breed, two of another, and one of a third. I have no idea how she chose the breeds, but she has had some experience with chickens from a previous job, plus, she did a lot of research.
When the five mail-order chickens arrived, my daughter picked them up from her post office. She was ready with a brooder, heat lamp, water and food dispensers, and a little bar for them to roost upon. They were so cute—two yellow puff balls (Marigold and Penny) and three black ones (Matilda, Henrietta, and Doughnut). My two grandchildren were immediately in love.
The chicks grew quickly, and once their feathers had fully grown in, and the date of the last possible frost had passed, they were moved to the coop. (Sadly, Penny died at two weeks, so now there were four.) The family enjoyed feeding them scraps and petting their soft feathers. About a month ago, they were ready to roam free in the back yard. My daughter would let them loose for a period of time. All four of the chicks would stay together and peck around in the yard. Then, before dusk, they would be herded to the coop.
By the time my babysitting and chicken-sitting duties rolled around, everyone knew the routine, children and chickens.
Except the girls did not follow through on their end.
On my first day there, I let them out about 4:30, and when I went to shut them up for the night, they weren’t there. Instead, I found a neighbor girl in the front yard guarding Marigold and Doughnut. She told me that she had seen three of them at one time, but only had these two corralled. She also said there had been a cat.
I picked them up and carried each to the coop. Then we all searched the yard in vane. After I put the kids to bed, I went back out into the black night to look again. No luck. I had to tell my daughter that I had lost half of her brood of chickens!
The next morning, there were still only two chicks. My other daughter and her husband came for their chicken and babysitting shift, and I explained the situation. In the late morning, the same neighbor girl said she had found Matilda, who was pecking just outside the coop, wanting to join her sisters inside. Still no Henrietta. In the afternoon though, peeping and scratching were heard from the back deck. There she was! Minding her own business, completely unaware of the mayhem she and the others had caused.
Where had the chickens gone? What adventures had they had? I really wanted to know. We also realized that in human years, these girls were likely teenagers, so maybe they just needed to roam, spread their wings, do what teenagers like to do.
No more free ranging happened for the remainder of the weekend. The naughty chickens were safely locked away in their coop until my daughter came home.
Now, if these girls can just stay out of trouble for the next few months, they might have fresh eggs to share come autumn.