A couple days ago I was looking for something to do outside with the little man that didn’t include weeding. We decided to let about half of the birds out into the pen in front of the house. We spent the next hour or so watching the birds catch worms and run around the pen looking for a secluded place to eat the worm with out sharing. And of course trying to keep the little guy from eating the grass.
When it was time we put the birds into one of the extra dog carriers and brought them back to their pen with the rest of the flock. One of the guinea hens had other ideas though and the chase was on.
There I am, in the small chicken pen in the yard trying to grab the hen and there is Stinks (our dog) on the outside of the pen chasing the hen the other direction. These birds are now old enough to have their “big bird” feathers and can fly.
And fly she did. Right out of the pen and landed in front of Stinks. Tripping over myself and the chicken wire, I made it out of the pen on my feet. There I am, running after the dog, the dog with her ears pinned back determined to eat that bird and the bird running and flying for it’s dear life. The parade went on. Me hollering, Stinks barking, bird squawking, all over the front yard.
Finally the bird found a spot under a half rotted railroad ties by a flower bed. This quick break in the chase was enough to stop the dog in her tracks and gave me just enough time grab the hen and carry her safely back to the safety of the flock.
After all this I thought I were in the clear. The following morning the poor dear was dead in the pen. I don’t know for sure what happened but I can only guess that it was too much excitement the day before.
Another quick and sad little bird service was held in her honor.