Ive been pretty concerned about Fr. Jims situation for the past couple of days, but I do want to share with you an Update from the Coop that happened very recently. It has been very cold, and the first snow has fallen. I will see the grass only sporadically until spring. This is usually a season when I spend a lot of time indoors, grateful for amenities like heat and the fireplace. That. however, was before I became a chicken mommy. I was curled up in a comfortable chair with a good book, trying to concentrate on it but really reviewing a couple of scenes from my new synopsis (no, no hints), and glancing out the window into the starlit darkness beyond, when I remembered something I definitely shouldnt have forgotten. I hadnt put vaseline on the chickens combs for several days. And it was cold. Freezing. Never let it be said that I let grass grow under my feet when my critter family needs attention. I dropped the book, jumped up, and headed for the closet to get my parka and my warm lined boots and my gloves and my flashlight. My husband glanced up from the magazine he was reading, and remarked that things had progressed (actually I think he really meant deteriorated) to a point where I kept my chicken coop gear laid out just like a fireman. I let this pass without comment and headed across the driveway for the coop, grateful for the twinkling lights from above that God provided to brighten my way. I did turn on the flashlight long enough to make sure that no skunks or other unwelcome surprises awaited me as I arrived at the coop. Of course when I actually arrived at the coop I realized that between trying to work out a scene from my synopsis and concern over the situation with Fr. Jim, I had forgotten the jar of vaseline. This meant a trip back to the house. Four sleepy hens were looking at me with their What-do-you-want-this-time expressions. I would have to make another round trip anyhow. Why waste one? The most difficult part of the operation could be done in the comfort of the kitchen. Before any of the hens could move, I reached out and snatched the astonished Fuzzy, secured her under my arm, slammed the access door and locked it, and trooped back to the house. My patient husband had gone to our bedroom to prepare for bed when I entered, still clutching Fuzzy, but hed left the kitchen lights on for me. The vaseline was where Id left it on the counter. I turned slightly to rest part of Fuzzy on the countertop and reached for the jar. The lid was stuck. How could the lid on a big jar of vaseline be stuck? Grease is what you use to UNstick things. I got a deathgrip on the jar with my left hand and moved my right elbow just enough to get a good grip on the jar lid with my right hand, and gave it a mighty twist. The lid came off just as Fuzzy burst out from under my arm, scrambled across the counter just as I dropped both the jar and the lid, leaped to the floor, and scampered off into the darkened house. Oh, great! A black chicken vanished in my house at night. Blackie, I could probably have found right away (yes, I’d have checked the crockpot again). But not Fuzzy, she of the chickenly Sissy-tude. Muttering imprecations under my breath, I stalked off in the direction in which her tailfeathers had last been seen heading, and began turning on lights while I considered the intractability of all chickens in general and Fuzzy in particular. I searched the dining area, my husband’s office, the big living room, and the entry hall. No Fuzzy. Nor was she lurking in the wine room. I knew she wasn’t in any of the bedrooms or the hall bath because the doors were all closed. I had two three alternatives at this point. I could let her stay in the house all night and just go to bed. I could keep looking for her on my own. Or I could enlist Sid’s aid. It is the understatement of this or any other century to say that Sid was unenthusiastic about my suggestion that he get out of a very warm bed and help me search the house for an escaped chicken. He not unnaturally wanted to know what the chicken had been doing in the house in the first place, and was most unimpressed with my explanation about chicken combs and frostbite and Vaseline. He had heard it all somewhere before. However, muttering about wanting to get at least some sleep tonight, he emerged from the bedcovers, thrust his feet into slippers and his jaw into the I’ll-humor-the-wife position, and came with me. He is thorough. He wanted to know where I had already looked. I told him. Sid made a cursory examination of the areas I’d already searched. I trailed after him, explaining that I had already looked in these obvious places. Sid suggested in an extremely dry tone that since it was Fuzzy we were discussing, I consider looking in some un-obvious places. He went back to look in the living room while I searched under his desk and in his office cabinets. A few moments later I heard him calling me from the living room, so I joined him there. He was stationed near the big sofa, the one that faces the fireplace but provides a panoramic view of the Cascades, and which is flanked by two huge decorative indoor trees. He stabbed a finger at the sofa. I didn’t see any chicken on it, that’s for sure. “What did I tell you?” he demanded in smug tones. Too smug. “Absolutely nothing whatsoever,” I retorted, with truth. Then I took another look. There was a tiny chicken poop on the sofa. Fuzzy had sped into the living room, jumped on the sofa cushion, jumped to the back of the sofa, and from there had taken refuge in one of the decorative trees. She was peeking out at us with great interest, as if she knew she was the subject under discussion. In the interests of getting back to bed with all possible speed, Sid held Fuzzy while I anointed her comb with Vaseline, but he instructed me to take the jar with me in my pocket when I returned her to the coop, and to do the other chickens there. I did so. By the time I got back to the house I was pretty cold, even though I had dressed warmly. And when I did finally get to bed, I got told that I had cold feet! At least they weren’t covered with Vaseline.
Posted on: Sun, 03 Nov 2013 05:27:51 +0000
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