It was about 7 in the morning and I’m heading out to the garage on the way to work. Luckily, my brain wasn’t paying too much attention, otherwise I certainly would have jumped as the Fast Thing ran in front of me. Back brain is probably sifting through cat/squirrel/rat/sparrow/leaf pile/etc., so I wasn’t overly surprised when my actually thinking brain said “Jennifer,” she says, “Jennifer a chicken has just run in front of you in your northwest-side of Chicago gated up back yard.” Pause. Pause. Hmmm. Yeah. That’s a chicken. And it’s in my weakly gated back yard. That’s a pretty clean, non-smelly chicken. But it is currently homeless. And it’s cold out. And I’m going to be late for work. And it seems awfully friendly. So, in the moment I took my car out of the garage, shut the garage door and threw down a bunch of wild bird seed which the chicken seemed to like…a lot. At that time, I didn’t know if it was a rooster or a hen. Because what the hell do I know about chickens? I threw my fuzzy narwhal hat into the garage in case she might like to roost/nest/cuddle in it. Again…limited chicken knowledge. And that was day one of chickening.
Next time on the Accidental Chicken…Geographical Context
Accidental Chicken 