Sep 1, 2008

The Great Chicken Evacuation of '08

Gustav, I hate you.

I spent a rained-on half hour this morning chasing wet chickens around the henyard so I could semi-carefully stuff them into a wire dog kennel. Why, do you ask? Because Mrs. I insisted that we turn the back patio into a Chicken Evacuation Shelter. Plywood over the screens, hay on the floor and an 8' long 1x1 screwed diagonally across one corner to serve as a perch for tonite. I even dragged one of the four-plex nest boxes out and set it up in the darkest corner for the broody hens to feel comfortable in.

Ever smell a wet hen? Ever have to clutch one to you to keep her from panicking and beating you to death with her wings? Ever have to try to explain to six chickens crammed into a small wire kennel why they're being fast-marched across the yard in the pouring rain?

Gah.

Jim, if you're out there and reading this, don't come north or you're gonna get some fowl play.


In other news, my estimation of everyone in the world being evil has been changed.

My truck isn't running right now. We went to the local lumberyard yesterday mid-afternoon to pick up four sheets of plywood and realised too late that the CX-7's hatch is just slightly too small to fit a 4' wide sheet in it, even diagonally.

Before I could get my cellular out to call my brother and tell him to bring his truck a complete stranger drove up and asked us if we needed help. Not loading, but help bringing the sheets home.

I had to stand there and swallow a few times before I answered in the thankful affirmative. He ran inside to get a plug with which to make a house-feed circuit for his new generator, and while we waited with shocked and bemused smiles on our faces ANOTHER guy walked by and asked if we needed help bringing our plywood home. I couldn't believe it, I honestly couldn't.

So. Gustav, you're forgive this time for the chicken wrangling because you also managed to show me that there are honestly a few people in this world who still really care to help strangers in need.

Lesson received.

(If you're curious, our Good Samaritan went home with a dozen freshly laid yard eggs and some gas money.)

11 comments:

Daisy said...

My mother does the same thing to my father when it comes to rounding up the ducks at night for safety from the foxes and other roaming creatures....

And here I thought your plywood story was going to end with the guy driving off with your wood, never to be seen again....

My heart is warmed. (And i need some eggs...)

meno said...

That really is heart-warming. Maybe all people aren't jerks after all.

Gordo said...

A kindness repaid in kind. What else could anyone want? Other than knowing that people are safe, I mean.

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Maggie said...

I was trying to convince my husband the other day that there are more good people than bad in the world, we just hear about the bad more on the news. Now I can show him this!

Clowncar said...

Is that smell the reason wet hens are so mad?

And I agree with Sara: your way of writing sure can magnet! Please, please, please, try it and write a review!

Gordo said...

OMG, Irr. You have to take Sara up on her offer. Please, please, please!

Jean said...

So, does this mean ya'll are OK?
I hope.

Looks like the season isn't over yet.
*sigh*

Rayne said...

It is so wonderful when we find good people in the world, and I wonder if they know how much of a difference they make by just that small act of kindness they have done?
I grew up in Ct. and we had a really bad cold snap one January and my mother stuffed all two dozen+ chickens into our downstairs bathroom for one night until my father could build a smaller, easier to warm coop for them. Yes...chickens...I do miss those fresh eggs, though. I really do.

Mona Buonanotte said...

The smell of wet hens? Nasty.

The smell of wet hen POOP? Nastier.

Hope you're okay down there!

Irrelephant said...

Daisy, to be honest I was afraid of the exact same thing, but since I was (happily!) proven wrong I knew i had to share.

meno, don't let it throw you, most of them still are. It took the threat of a devastating storm to make these two get with the program. *wink*

Gordo, I was shocked and surprised, and yes, I think I definitely need to pay those two men forward.

Maggie, look to my warning to meno--it took a storm of ferocious intensity to change two guys. If it weren't for that storm I'd probably still be standing there with a stupid look on my face. From heatstroke, likely enough.

CC, I think if I smelled like that when I got wet I'd be pretty hacked off too, but even wet they didn't seem to mind so much. I guess it was cooler with damp feathers than it was otherwise--it's still HOT down here.

Give Sara a try, eh? *sigh* Peer pressure, just what I need at 41.

Gordo, you're on the bandwagon too, eh? *weeping into my hands*

Jean, we're as peachy as can be. Here's hoping YOUR season is awfully short and uneventful. I hear the next two are going to be shared with the Eastern Seaboard. Yay! *lmao*

Rayne, every time I have to do something repulsive with the chickens, like mucking out the old pine shavings from the coop or hang fly traps from the rafters all I have to do is think of my morning plate of three scrambled and how just plain GOOD they are and the work suddenly becomes easier.

In a bathroom, eh? I keep thinking of the volume of cr@p that our eighteen produced in one night...wow. I bet that was powerful motivation for your dad, wasn't it? *lol*

Mona, yes and yes more. *g* But the patio is clean now, and the parish is gonna come pick up the limbs if I stack them by the road, so all is good. I can be languid in the A/C again. *happy smile*