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It’s true! Aliens stole my chickens! Now you may think that I am exaggerating, but I assure you I am not. Once you read the evidence you’ll see there is not other explanation.
But first, a little background…
I live on a small urban farm. It has a really cool history. It’s been in my family for a very long time. Now it belongs to me and my mom. My husband and I moved into and we started working on building a small urban farm and learning some new skills.
Then we decided to add some chickens. After some research, we chose Bantam chickens. They have a nice variety of types and we picked a couple of Silkies. We also had a rooster from a previous attempt. Chatting with my mother in law gave me some insight into how to sex chickens. This time we did get two hens; a very pretty yellow one named Poppers because of the way her feathers popped out all over the place, and a black one named Bootsie because of her feathered legs .Now chickens are fascinating creatures. In case you didn’t know, chickens are related to dinosaurs http://www.theguardian.com/science/2007/apr/13/uknews.taxonomy.
Watching them wander around the farm, it’s easy to see them as a miniature dinosaur with their slow, deliberate steps and the way they balance themselves. I enjoyed hand feeding them treats and having them crawl up on my lap. Watching chickens free range can be very soothing and it was enjoyable to sit on the ground and watch them while they roamed around.
Soon it became time to start acclimatizing them to the outdoors overnight to get them used to living outside. We had a mesh pet carrier that was quite roomy for two small chickens and soon they went to live under the pavilion in the front garden.
Ahh it was a heady time. Working in the garden and watching my chickens happily eating their Chicken Crack, it’s an actual brand, and enjoying the occasional grubs from the compost pile. Every morning, when I got home from work, I would stop by on my way in and say good morning to them and see how their night had gone. Why it was almost a Disney moment complete with some happy little bird singing tune.
Then came the morning when everything would change. It was a beautiful crisp fall morning. The sunrise was hanging low in the sky turning the bay, which was so still it was like a mirror, a lovely maroonish color. My VW bus was running smoothly and all was right with the world.
I pulled into the drive and got out and went over to the pavilion to say good morning to my flock
And was stopped in my tracks.
The little coop was still in place. Water and grain feeders were still in place. Nothing looked disturbed, but my chickens were gone. My brain knew what my eyes were seeing, but was unable to comprehend it. I went over to the coop and unzipped it. I even looked at the zipper as if there would be something there that would give me a clue. I looked inside the coop, thinking maybe there was a blind spot they were hiding in. Still nothing. There was no signs of a struggle anywhere. Chicken was still in his coop, but there seemed to be an uneasiness to him that told me he had been severely traumatized by something. And he wasn’t talking.
As I looked around the area, I found a small pile of black and yellow feathers. Just a few, nothing that could really give me a clue as to what had happened.
My daughter suggested that perhaps a possum or other animal had gotten them, but again, there was no sign of forced entry. My friend Blyth suggested that perhaps a hungry person had taken them. There really aren’t any homeless or hungry people in our town. They are someone’s uncle and someone will have them in for dinner and/or spend the night.
There just didn’t seem any logical answer as to what happened to my chickens. Then it struck me. Aliens! Of course!
It made sense. Only Aliens would be able to extract my chickens so cleanly, without a blade of straw out of place. They must have made a brave run to get away but were recaptured which would explain the small amount of feathers off to the side.
The chicken coop stands off to one side, empty and still in the cold winter day. The rooster huddles in his coop against the chill. He’s still not talking. Every now and again, he sits on my shoulder and we look at the spot where our girls used to be. In the spring, I will go to my favorite farm store and dive into a new set of chickens. The new coop will be ready for them by then. Maybe I should cover the roof in aluminum.
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