I’ve decided to make friends with a chicken. There’s those jokes about “why did the chicken cross the road,” all of which are meant to get into the chicken’s personality, which we know nothing about.
If you can become friends with a chicken though, maybe you can figure out why they do what they do. This thought came to me because we are surrounded by neighbors who have chickens. They cackle, peck, forage and cockle-doodle-doo throughout the day.
They disrupt the pine needles up our driveway to find morsels. They cross the driveway (why?), and amazingly, seem to want to become friends. I’ve decided to follow up with one of them.
She has golden feathers, smooth, almost brownish. She greets me as I go up to get the mail. She comes close, wondering, I think, if I have some type of food she’ll finding inviting. She has not crossed the threshold to let me pet her yet.
Several months back, I began mulching pine seedlings we’d planted near the chickens’ home. That’s when our friendship began.
The brood (probably 7-8 in total) decided the wood chips were tasty. I don’t know why (I asked them, but none of the chickens answered). They kept at it, pecking away with their beaks until they had dispersed every bit of wood chips I’d shoveled around the seedlings to help with their growth.
The chickens knocking the wood chips around didn’t irritate me as much as make me wonder what they were thinking. During this time, I determined this group (two of our other neighbors also have chickens wandering the local turf) was more friendly. They would waddle closer to me. They’d eye my hand if I put it out, like an offering of food. They’d rotate their heads the way you see chickens do, like they were asking a question and wondering if the human had an answer.
I talk to most animals. I figure maybe they understand, maybe they don’t, maybe you can open lines of communication. The golden-brown one seemed the best logistical friend as she cocked her head when I spoke, came closer and closer. When I reached down to pet her, she danced away.
This continued for several weeks. I played hard to get, and she came closer, prancing out of a small strand of woods to follow my voice and let me know of her presence. She listened to me coaxing her forward, but when bending over to reach out, she’d again dart away, her head doing the chicken-jerk motion.
I told myself I was going to make friends with the chicken. I told my wife I was going to make friends with the chicken. I still believe I’m going to make friends with this chicken. Something will cause a breakthrough.
I’m not sure what that will be. I might have to entice her with food. That is the best bet.
I could go online and see what Ms. Google has to say: “How do you make friends with a chicken?” I feel that would be cheating.
I want to figure this out the old-timer way – using intuition, learning through failure, trying different techniques until something works.
I plan to keep after this. One day, the chicken will say, “yes, I want to be friends.” That will be the day she decides to cross the road.
If you can become friends with a chicken though, maybe you can figure out why they do what they do. This thought came to me because we are surrounded by neighbors who have chickens. They cackle, peck, forage and cockle-doodle-doo throughout the day.
They disrupt the pine needles up our driveway to find morsels. They cross the driveway (why?), and amazingly, seem to want to become friends. I’ve decided to follow up with one of them.
She has golden feathers, smooth, almost brownish. She greets me as I go up to get the mail. She comes close, wondering, I think, if I have some type of food she’ll finding inviting. She has not crossed the threshold to let me pet her yet.
Several months back, I began mulching pine seedlings we’d planted near the chickens’ home. That’s when our friendship began.
The brood (probably 7-8 in total) decided the wood chips were tasty. I don’t know why (I asked them, but none of the chickens answered). They kept at it, pecking away with their beaks until they had dispersed every bit of wood chips I’d shoveled around the seedlings to help with their growth.
The chickens knocking the wood chips around didn’t irritate me as much as make me wonder what they were thinking. During this time, I determined this group (two of our other neighbors also have chickens wandering the local turf) was more friendly. They would waddle closer to me. They’d eye my hand if I put it out, like an offering of food. They’d rotate their heads the way you see chickens do, like they were asking a question and wondering if the human had an answer.
I talk to most animals. I figure maybe they understand, maybe they don’t, maybe you can open lines of communication. The golden-brown one seemed the best logistical friend as she cocked her head when I spoke, came closer and closer. When I reached down to pet her, she danced away.
This continued for several weeks. I played hard to get, and she came closer, prancing out of a small strand of woods to follow my voice and let me know of her presence. She listened to me coaxing her forward, but when bending over to reach out, she’d again dart away, her head doing the chicken-jerk motion.
I told myself I was going to make friends with the chicken. I told my wife I was going to make friends with the chicken. I still believe I’m going to make friends with this chicken. Something will cause a breakthrough.
I’m not sure what that will be. I might have to entice her with food. That is the best bet.
I could go online and see what Ms. Google has to say: “How do you make friends with a chicken?” I feel that would be cheating.
I want to figure this out the old-timer way – using intuition, learning through failure, trying different techniques until something works.
I plan to keep after this. One day, the chicken will say, “yes, I want to be friends.” That will be the day she decides to cross the road.
