The Chicken Chronicles

My sister, Jessica, prompted me to tell the tale of my latest encounter with the ever frightening fowl- the chicken.

Now don't get me wrong. I love chicken. Especially fried between two pieces of toasted bread.

And no other way.

I have been scared of chickens my whole life. I can't ever remember thinking they looked even remotely friendly.

When I was seventeen my mom decided to get a few and keep them in the backyard next to the basketball court. Those chicken would chase me around that basketball court and up onto the grass. Really. My arms would be flailing about as I madly dashed for the nearest entrance to our home.

Once a particularly menacing chicken pecked at me through the window in our basement. That creepy "knock, knock, knock" -ing sound of his beak hitting glass still haunts my dreams.

But I digress. Sorry Jess I will get to the real story you asked for.

Thad and I took the kids branch hunting. (Yes, you read that right. We were looking for a branch to put in my family room.) We ended up by a blocked entrance to a nearby canyon. All seemed fine. There was a small stream separating us from a large open field. It was a pretty day.

And then I saw it.

A white chicken was staring at me from across that beautiful stream. Looking at me with as much surprise as I held fear when I met her beady eyed glare.

I figured there was enough distance between us that she wasn't a threat. But then she started to walk with that intimidating three clawed strut. I called to Thad and he just joked that it was a wild chicken and wouldn't be interested in getting closer.

What?! I didn't know there was such a thing. A wild chicken? Why don't they post a warning somewhere? Sure they put up large signs when a bear comes into town, but they won't even post a florescent 8 x 11 warning us to look for pointy beaked, unpredictable fowl. (OK, maybe that is a little extreme, but still.)

I tried to laugh it off and carefully walked downstream to continue my quest for a stick. (It really seems silly now.)

The chicken followed. She seemed to keep pace with me. I thought, Amy it is just one little chicken. It is not a big deal.

I saw a pretty promising branch close to my side of the stream bed. The chicken was on the other side of the stream. I decided to chance it. I wanted that branch.

And then I heard them.

Yes, them.

I looked up the tree from which the branch fell, and to my horror sitting- yep, sitting- in the tree where 3 more chicken. Then I noticed the other 4 sitting around the base of the tree.

And they were all looking at me.

It was like a gang of feathers. They were all making that throatal cooing sound.

That was enough for me. No decorative stick was worth that. I dashed back to my car.

With arms flailing.