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.
Posted by Moon Over Martinborough 
