We Gotta Get out of This Place

I was still sleepy. My allergies were acting up. I was distracted by, um, something shiny. Take your pick or make up another reason, it is immaterial. What does matter is instead of letting the chickens out of the hen house and into the run, I managed to let them out into the yard. The chickens are free-ranging today.

Ah yes, poultry in motion.

As urban chickens, our flock enjoys all the benefits of cosmopolitan Northwest living without having to worry about the high cost of housing. As a general rule, poultry don't invest much thought in the vagaries of the real-estate market, or so I've been told.

As opposed to the chickens in Chicken Run, the hens in our flock are homebodies who do not want complete freedom but do enjoy a good walk around the yard. They will return to the safety and warmth of the coop when the time is appropriate. They do not plot and scheme endlessly to contrive by any means necessary to get under, over, or around their chicken-wire prison wall. They will, to no surprise, take advantage of my slow reflexes and spend time in the yard, as opposed to the run. The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, so to speak.

For today, in addition to providing fresh, nutritious eggs and quality nitrogen-rich fertilizer, we'll have nontoxic pest and weed control. At dusk they will put themselves back in the coop and roost for the night, returning tomorrow to the confines of the run, waiting for the next opportunity to make a break for it.