Tough Day for Phyllis

Phyllis, the hen, had a tough day. She and the other hens were enjoying the balmy weather outside. They especially like to scratch at the leaves under the bird feeder and eat any leftover sunflowers seeds. Scratch with the left leg, scratch with the right leg, peck and peck again. Scratch, scratch, peck, peck. Repeat. I was in the garage pounding black walnuts with a hammer on the workbench. I heard the chickens squawk. Sometimes they do that when danger arrives. Sometimes they do that when ovulating. Sometimes they do that for no discernible reason. I had both garage doors open and out of the corner of my eye I saw the chickens had run completely around the house. To me, this meant real danger. I rushed out the side door to see a red streak with a tail running after one of the chickens, chasing it toward my tin shed. A fox! The chicken was screaming bloody murder. I ran. Normally I don't run but this was an emergency. I'm sure I look pretty funny running with a limp. I yelled too. Everything was so blurry when I ran. Was I running so fast to make the passing scenery a blur? No, it was my magnifying drugstore glasses I put on to work on the walnuts. I couldn't see a thing with those glasses on. I tripped over a branch and fell. The chicken was still struggling. I thought it was funny that a fox wouldn't have left by now. I got up and pushed my glasses up on my head. I moved ahead and was close enough to see the fox had my chicken by it's right drumstick. Then I saw the red leash. I thought it was funny that a fox had a leash. My mind isn't so quick in a crisis. I pulled the leash. The fox had a red collar. It wasn't a fox. It was a dog. And who would put a green leash with a red collar? That color combination is good only a couple days of the year and it's not even Thanksgiving yet. I spied a dog tag on the collar. The owner of this dog was going to catch it from me! Just then I hear a woman say, "Is Peanut bothering your chicken?" There, approaching across the back yard, are my nice neighbors, the owners of Peanut, the 9 pound min-pin. My mind struggles to put this together. This is Peanut? Why, he looked like a fox just a minute ago. He looked a lot bigger when his jaws were on my chicken. I felt guilty for being angry at them because they are the nicest neighbors. They were a big support to me when Blunder died. They've offered to mow my lawn when I decided to let it go wild. We looked at the chicken. She asked if it was the same one I lost. I couldn't tell yet. We could see her hiding under a fallen down tree trunk. She was moving a little. We could tell she was breathing. The neighbors felt terrible that Peanut attacked my chicken. They offered to pay for it. I try to be nice. I tell them not to worry about it. Peanut was only acting like a dog. I even petted Peanut who was in my neighbor's arms even though Peanut still had his eyes on my chicken. I told them my dogs had gotten away on me before too. I showed my neighbors my walnut stash before they took their dogs and went home. I went back to whacking walnuts. I stopped to check on the chicken after an hour. It hadn't moved. The other three hens weren't around either. The yard was silent. I walked around the yard looking for them but couldn't find them anywhere. I went back to whacking walnuts. After another hour the three hens, like teenagers, came into the garage to say they were home and took off again. I saw Pamela, Meredith and Kelly. For a while the three hens squawked loudly. Were they calling for their sister Phyllis? By now it was getting dark. I walked past the shed and into the woods between the driveway to where I last saw her. I spent five minutes looking for her. Her feathers blend in well with tree bark. Finally I found her. She was tucked in tight beneath some branches. I moved some smaller branches out of the way to get at her. I had to bend forward at the waist to reach her. This was very poor body mechanics but there was no easy way to get her. I petted her back. She made some noise but did not move. She was wedged in there so tight I wouldn't be able to lift her. I nudged her hindquarters and she moved forward enough for me to lift her up and out of the tangle of branches. I cradled her in my arms. She was very still. I petted her and talked to her as I walked her back to her coop. Her head perked up when she saw the coop. I set her in there gently thinking she would rest for a time. She stood right up and left the coop to walk around with her sisters. She has some feathers missing on her right leg but she's fine; no limping. Phyllis doesn't even seem upset. I guess chickens forget quickly. She had a tough day but she's over it.