I was standing at the kitchen sink and looking out the back window when I first saw our chickens sneaking into the backyard. I froze.
The Forbidden Zone
They were headed straight for The Forbidden Zone.
It is a truth universally acknowledged that chickens untended get up to no good. Anyone who keeps chickens knows this. Given the chance, they’ll make a bee line towards the most freshly planted, unfenced patch of garden only to begin wreaking havoc with all the wild abandon of drunken sailors in a bar fight.
When we first got our young hens, we kept them in the chicken run for months on end. They were small and there are feral cats and stoats around, so it was for their own good. But when they were big enough to start laying, and when they began laying consistently in the nesting box, Rick and I decided they were old enough to be granted the occasional shore leave.
Now every weekend morning we open the door to the chook house so they can escape the ‘chicken penitentiary’ – as our neighbor Aussie Bronwyn calls it. Every shore leave evening they put themselves back to bed in the chook house, and we shut the door behind them. (Lately Old Man Henry is doing so well that even he manages to get up to the top perch.)
At first the chickens never wandered too far from the chicken run and hay shed, which was fine. But as the weekends passed they slowly began wandering towards the house. There’s a white wooden fence around our yard that’s not only useless for keeping the cows out, but it’s high enough that the chickens wander right under it.
When they started coming under the fence, I sat down in front of them and explained that they could go anywhere they wanted except for the backyard which – with its unfenced and carefully tended flower beds – was absolutely off limits.
Alas, it seems our birds are headstrong.
There they were, as I stood at the kitchen sink that day, marching straight for the beautifully blooming primulas and pansies.
I immediately ran out the back door, screaming and waiving my arms as though I was under attack from a swarm of killer bees. This worked. The chickens did an about-face and ran away faster than you can say ‘dangerous human on the loose’.
From that day forward, I remained vigilant, and with great success. The chooks stopped going anywhere near the backyard.
Enter Uncle Oscar
Rick’s Uncle Oscar is a 70-something Texan who has lived in New York City for nearly 50 years. He’s a retired psychiatrist, a talented pianist and, most of all, a lover of animals. He’s visited us in New Zealand several times, and every time he walks by a paddock full of cows, he moos to them. Sometimes the cows answer back.
Chook house overlooking the olive grove
He’s here now and on weekdays Rick and I head off to work, leaving Oscar home alone with the chickens.
Here is a rule to live by. Never leave a New Yorker to look after your chickens. Even if he is originally from Texas.
When we got home Wednesday evening Oscar said, “Oh, the chickens were very funny today. They kept scratching the dirt in the back garden and rolling around.”
“Which garden?” I asked, trying to remain calm.
“The one in the backyard. I watched them from the kitchen window. They laid on their sides and stuck their legs out in ecstasy. Dirt went everywhere. They were having the best time.” Then Oscar did an imitation, jutting his hands out at odd angles, rolling his eyes back into his head, and moaning.
What can you do when someone you really like travels 10,000 miles to stand in your kitchen and imitate your chickens rolling around in your precious flower garden? I laughed uncontrollably.
Turns out I was so used to the chickens steering clear of the backyard that I hadn’t even thought to tell Uncle Oscar about The Forbidden Zone.
When I explained they weren’t supposed to be there, Oscar said, “Oh, I thought they looked like they knew they were doing something bad.” Then he added, “I feel like the substitute teacher. The unruly children took advantage of me.”
Assessing the damage
I went out to inspect the back flower beds. The chooks had scattered the compost I’d put down as mulch, and they’d tossed some dirt out of the beds, but there was no damage to any of the plants.
I cleaned up the mess and asked Oscar to leave the chickens in the chicken run the following day.
“But he likes watching them,” Rick said.
Oscar looked at me with his big, blue eyes. “Please?”
“Okay, you can let them out. But if they go into the back garden, shoo them away.”
“Absolutely,” Oscar said. “Bad chickens.” He shook his head.
The next evening
When Rick and I got home from work on Thursday, Oscar said, “Oh, I’m very sorry. They were at it again. I tried to get them to stop, but they just wouldn’t listen to me.”
Henry on the top perch - backwards
I went out and inspected the damage once more. This time they’d done something unforgivable. They’d trampled my young delphiniums and eaten the leaves. Of course, one possibility is to put chicken wire around the flower beds, but who wants to do that?
No. I had to lay down the law.
“Sorry, Oscar. Tomorrow we have to leave those chickens in the chicken run. I had them trained.” I smiled. “Two days with a substitute teacher, and it’s chaos again.”
Rick came to Oscar’s defense immediately, but then I said, “Who knows, Rick? Tomorrow the chickens might attack your new agapanthus.”
I knew this would strike terror in Rick’s heart, and it worked.
“Oh,” Rick said. “Yes. We need to lock them up again.”
Poor chickens
On the Friday night, Uncle Oscar was mournful.
“Oh, those poor little chickens,” he said. “Locked up in prison all day. I went by to visit them and take them some wilted lettuce. They looked up at me and said, ‘Please let us out. We’ll be good.’ I would have done it but I didn’t know how to get them back in there before the mean Prison Wardens came home.”
I looked at Oscar. “We can let them out tomorrow,” I said. “When I’m here.”
So, today we’ll let them out again. But I’ll be on my guard. The meanest Prison Warden is watching. And I’ll be whipping those undisciplined chickens back into shape again.
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What part of your garden would you be most horrified to have invaded by marauding chickens?
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Read other posts about chickens.
Read other posts about the garden.
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What a good read! We do not have chickens (yet). Though we have resident wild turkeys – the garden from which I shoo them are the errant grains that fall from the goats’ feed bins. At first we thought it was cute, now we think it is a mild nuisance. They’re persistent!
The place our chickens aren’t allowed … that would be the road. :) We keep ours locked up, as we are basically on a main road, and our buildings and such are Right There By The Street. Friends up the road let theirs out, but they don’t seem the least disturbed when chicks wander on the roadway. I just get panicked at the thought of my beautiful girls being squished by a logging truck, y’know?
So… we have a small, trailable chicken coop they can get out in. I might let them out in the spring, just for a bit, though… we’ll see.
The road here is definitely within chicken distance, but there’s a pond between the road and the coop. And by the house there’s a line of martian plants with large pink stalks (yucca?) that block the road. So our chooks have stayed clear so far.
I had to laugh when you threatened the agapanthus!! Great story
Mine have an enclosure made out of a 50m roll of electric netting, which keeps them and keeps the dogs and foxes out!
Why not fence off an area for them so they can be out all the time?
They have a big predator proof run, about 3 meters by 8, that they have 24 hour access to from the chook house. But it’s too small, even though we only have 5 chickens. They turned it to dirt in no time, and they just look bored in there!
Our neighbors’ chickens are frequently out by the road–apparently waiting for the bus, because they often hang out at the bus stop. That’s good for a laugh in the morning.
At our house, the chickens live in tractors, so they get a different patch of ground every day. Still Minerva Louise XII escapes periodically to lay an egg in the strawberries…she’s not very destructive all by herself. Thank Heavens. Also, it’s nearly winter here in Swamplands, USA, so there’s not much “garden” to destroy.
However, the goats on the loose in the yard, now THAT is destruction. So far, they’ve only killed some upstart hazelnut trees that the squirrels planted…I don’t care much about those. But God help them if they start eating my blueberry bushes!!!
I wish my chickens would wait for the bus! Maybe I could train them to do that too…
Oh boy, chickens and flower gardens are not a good thing. We’ve got a fenced off area that they can roam in the bush by their coop and run. I am however having to keep them in the run right now as one or two are turning feral again and living in the trees and laying their eggs in the bush. After our lovely neighbour trained them back to behave I can’t bare the thought that they’re turning feral.
The rabbits are the vermin of my garden – everything has to be fenced to survive. Comes of trying to make a garden in 6 acres of field and bush.
Hi, I have been enjoying your postings ever since Ronna let me know about the blog. Rick might remember me from Chicago when he and Ronna went out on a boat cruise with the Chicago Indoor Garden folks on Lake Michigan long time ago. Chickens started me on a vegetarian path. My aunt had many chickens in Russia and one night one of them attacked her. The damned thing pecked her so hard her hand started to bleed…. My uncle who probably by that time had ENOUGH to drink was very disturbed… He went over to the chicken and cut his head off with an ax… My poor young psyche was quite traumatized when I saw the chicken jumping all over the place after his head had been gone for some time! And then a few years later I ended up working with the Soviet Afghanistan vets and the Vietnam vets on a tour in the USSR if anyone remembers that name… We were in the Southern Chechnya (that’s right! if you follow the news you might know something about it!) staying with a wonderful family who had many a lamb. One night we walked in on the fellows skinning the cutest and youngest of them. Later that night some parts of the lamb were served in a soup… I could not touch it… Alas, some of us are wimpier than the others… But I could not get over the memory of the little sheep bleating when we saw them on our way to the mountains… SS
It’s been eye-opening for me living in the country. I’ve never been so close to our food source! I’m a vegetarian sympathizer myself.
Hi guys, I have just read your blog for the first time, after seeing it referred to in the Dominion Post. I must complement you on it. Particularly quality (and regularity!!). We have one and with everything else that is going on, find it a challenge to keep it up-to-date. So to see the commitment you are able to make to yours is really impressive. Do call by and see us at the winery next time you are down Dry River Road way. Regards, Roger
Thanks Roger. We will!
I love Uncle Oscar! Everyone needs a friend like that to keep life interesting. Great read, thank you so much for your post.
Very funny post :) So, the part of my garden definitly forbidden to marauding chickens would be… the whole garden for sure ! Much too flowers, veggies or tropical plants I put during the summer. I’d rather prefer to give them a large chicken run with some good fences to protect them (and the flowers by the way…) where they can be out as long as they want.
Say hello to your Uncle Oscar :)
I appreciate his way of thinking.
If we had chickens my only worry would be that they would get into our imaginary vegetable garden here at Mad.
One of the worst things is when your imaginary chickens get in your imaginary vegetable garden. I hate that! Or worse yet – your imaginary brontosaurus. They do sooo much damage. And they love cabbage.
After the wholly unimaginary monkeys, mouse-birds, porcupines, and fieldmice all doing some ‘redistribution’ in our garden (ie, they take ALL and you get to work and get nothing) I find myself quite out of charity with your uncle Oscar. My worst would be my artichokes.
I laughed so much at this. Love the whole thought of a substitute teacher being taken for a ride by the chickens – it’s straight out of a comic book!
On a more serious note; your flowers beds are divine and far too gorgeous to be ruined by your feathered friends. Glad the threat of them attacking the agapanthus got Rick on side too!
Oh, and Uncle Oscar sounds fabulous and very difficult to resist too!
This has a sense of deja vu about it – best to keep them well under control otherwise you will start tripping over them when you try to leave or enter the house and they will think that the kitchen is a really good place to explore and heaven help you then! And Hi to Uncle Oscar.