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News From The Front Lines

A few days ago, I locked myself into the chicken coop. This takes some skill. Apparently, the hook fell back into the eye when the door shut behind me. Brain non-functional these days, so I was stymied. No one to yell to.

There I was, eying the very small hatch the girls go out through. Would I fit? And would my dignity survive? I opted to try and find something to jimmy the latch with. No sticks. Eventually, I spied a feather that might be long enough. I bent over to pick it up.

I forgot that I had already put four eggs into my down vest pocket and as it was a very chilly morning, my vest was zipped. I felt an egg break. I reached into my pocket as quickly as I could and removed the broken egg and threw it out the hatch.

The feather fit through the slit between the door and the jamb. It was stiff enough and the hook was light enough that it lifted it out of the eye and I was freed. I promptly put a stick into the coop for the next time. Because even though this was the first time, there will likely be a next time. Some mornings are just like that.

Call me a tool user.

Frog Out



( 8 comments — Leave a comment )
Dec. 12th, 2007 04:20 pm (UTC)
Wow. Quick thinking, MacGyver. :>)
Dec. 12th, 2007 04:33 pm (UTC)
It didn't feel quick. It felt slooooow. Must have been some adrenaline involved. At least I didn't sit down and cry.

Mostly because the floor is covered with chicken poop and pine shavings and I don't fit in a nesting box. I only fit in a birdhouse, apparently.
Dec. 12th, 2007 04:39 pm (UTC)
Uh, yeah. I wouldn't want to sit down in all that either. I'm glad you're out safe and sound, anyhow.
Dec. 12th, 2007 06:15 pm (UTC)
The urge to make bad puns about this is just barely resistible.

Glad you didn't get stuck!
Dec. 12th, 2007 06:19 pm (UTC)
"The urge to make bad puns about this is just barely resistible."

And you would be resisting why, exactly? For fear of ruining my PG-13 rating?
Dec. 12th, 2007 06:23 pm (UTC)
Ah, not everyone is as fond of bad puns as I am.

*sends you love*
Dec. 12th, 2007 07:47 pm (UTC)
Oh! Save that adventure for a story.
Dec. 12th, 2007 10:09 pm (UTC)
So, how overwhelming was the urge to bellow "No one in here but us chickens!"?

Ah, that brings back memories!

Growing up, we kept chickens in the shed next to the orchard for the first few and last few years, and in the long barn when we had 300 of 'em (Digression: that was the year of the 200 broilers, all due for butchering at 12 weeks--we young 4-Hers were enthusiastic for the first 30 or so, and found the remaing 170 extremely tedious, especially as a warm, recently killed chicken is relatively easy to pluck, and a cooled, stiffened
one not. Our re-warming technique included dipping the bodies in hot water, which meant wet feathers up to the armpits as we plucked. I think we ended up with 12, 13, 14, 15, AND 16 week old broilers. After that year, we stuck to layers and fancy breeds.)

Our shed door had a simple pivot-bar wooden latch that could occasionally rotate shut if you closed the door hard--the pivoting bar would just fall horizontal, and effectively lock one inside. Fortunately, there was no notch to keep it horizontal, so our escape strategies included pounding or shaking the door to jiggle back into the vertical/open position, bellowing for siblings, and looking for stiff objects to slide,as you did, between the door and frame to nudge the bar up or down. Never did have to climb out the hatch myself, but I do have kinetic memories of shaking the shed door while yelling for Helaine at the top of my lungs!
( 8 comments — Leave a comment )