If it wasn’t so late in the day, I’d be far more disturbed by this; but there’s a chicken loose in my house, and I’m at work. There was nothing I could do; I had to get back, and Oreo was feeling stubborn. Now all I can do is pray she continues to roost on the tile floor and doesn’t fly up to the upholstered chairs or leather love seat.
Chasing a chicken around my living room was not the image in my head when bringing Oreo home from the farmers market, but it was kind of funny a little pathetic. I let a six-ounce chick get the best of me. So much for my shadow; who needs it when there’s air conditioning? She was flat-out refusing to go back outside, and her little beak just kept getting bigger and bigger every time I couldn’t catch her. But in my wimpy defense, the pecking order is a real thing! She’s pecking everybody and everything right now. I catch Luke doing 18o’s a couple times a day because she pecks at his heels.
I might be developing a pecking phobia. Although she was quick to run under the furniture, I’m sure I could have caught her if I didn’t let her freak me out so much. She flew toward my face when I was crouched down going to pick her up and that was probably the moment she won. After that, I tried to bribe her with feed and shoo her with a towel, but I didn’t try to pick her up again. All this because I thought she might be feeling lonely. Now I have to feel bad for Luke when I get home because he’s been chick-sitting all afternoon. I can’t win.
Oreo rules the roost.