I say…I say, what an odd and unexpected visitor we had upon our doorstep after dinner.
That’s the best Foghorn Leghorn I can do on the fly. Still, I figured it was inevitable because chickens like to wander and there’s some damage to my back fence thanks to these neighbors’ damned dog. As soon as we opened the gate, it (I don’t know its gender) knew which way to go yet it was unable to get over. Somara volunteered to handle this since she claimed past experience. No luck. It was more skittish than Nemo with strangers.
Somara heard the neighbors’ kids playing nearby so she got one of them come over to collect it. Woosh! The chicken went right into the kid’s hands to go home. Good for the fowl thing, otherwise one of the younger cats (Kuroneko or Nemo) would’ve been given the opportunity to teach it how to fly.
Somehow, I have a feeling, this won’t be the last chicken expedition into my yard with the people. At least their rooster(s) have begun crowing less often…or we’re learning to sleep through it.
I say…I say…that there roosta’s a cock-a-doodle-dont!
For the love of all that’s holy: when you have the neighbor’s chicken in your yard and you have to endure roosters in the morning, you gotta move. It’s like the worst of both worlds. All the sameness and BS covenant restrictions of the ‘burbs coupled with the roaming (and noisy) livestock of the country. Hell, if you live amongst chickens you should at least be able to ride your four-wheeler out by the ‘crick and shoot off a few rounds from your .22 at some old soda cans. Try that in Pflugerville and you’d be needing to hire me to defend you in court.
Roosters in the morning = time to call the realtor!