When I removed eight of the ten cockerels from the flock, I thought the seven pullets would be happy. The hen house had become more of a frat house with all of the crowing and chest bumping.
Instead, the pullets and remaining two cockerels boycotted going into the chicken house at night.
So, instead of the 15-second chore of closing the hen house, I had a 15-minute chore of catching seven pullets and two cockerels and putting them in the hen house.
"Let me know and I'll help," the husband says after I come inside the house after Night Two of chicken chasing.
I take him up on Night Three, which happens to be after we return from a Friday night out.
My husband is a flashlight man (the subject of a future blog), while I'm more of a feel-my-way-in-the-dark type of gal. So, we have two people and a flashlight trying to catch nine chickens... who are no longer docile and sleeping.
At one point, after being blinded by a flashlight, and regaining my vision in time to see a hen racing past, I burst out laughing.
"I bet a lot of couples don't get to spend their Friday nights this way," I say.
He failed to see the humor.
But soon, the chickens were caught and tucked into their hen house.
As for Saturday night? The hens went into the house, no fuss, no questions asked.
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I have a flashlight spouse too. I see no reason for flashlights unless you are looking for a lost earring in the dark places under the seat of the car......... hahaha!
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