Yes, my friends.  Jeff Golden had it right with his assessment of the final European Vacation Night. (Please see his original comments below.)

I had been here at home. Alone. With the chickens. For two weeks. The experience was harrowing, at best. During the course of those 14 days, and 14 nights, I had sustained several injuries as a direct result of my interaction with those chickens.  Something was fowl.  The task of caring for them was growing more an more difficult each day. I was beginning to suspect that they were, in fact, organized.

And plotting against me.

As yet another storm threatened from the west, I ventured out at the clip of dusk. I was just beginning to fill water containers and small food bins, inside the coop, when I heard the door to the coop slam shut. A strong gust of wind, I thought.

I completed the task at hand, and decided to go out into the chicken yard to begin retrieving the birds for the night. I turned the latch on the coop’s door. When I attempted to push open the door, it would not budge. I pushed a little harder, and still, nothing. Finally, in the dark, dank, smelliness of the coop, I began to feel agitation creep in. I put a shoulder to the door.

It would not give. It was like a heavy object had been placed outside the door, and it would not move an inch. Suddenly I heard what sounded like the creak of the yard’s gate swing open. Oh good. I thought. Someone has stopped by tonight, and they’ve spotted my predicament.

But alas… I heard cackling, and the flapping of wings. It seemed rhythmic. Like they were speaking to one another. The chatter seemed to get more and more quiet, as if they were moving toward the main house, and away from the coop.

I had my phone with me, yet, with the approaching storm, I could not get a cellular signal. But my wi-fi was connecting. Barely. And that is where I wrote that last chicken-escapade-column. Trapped, inside the squalor of the chicken coop.

I did not know chickens could swim, but I swear they were having a pool party.  I heard the clinking of ice on the walls of Margarita glasses.  It sounded like the Hot Tub was firing up.

The next morning, one of our friends, Mike,  stopped by to do some work. He opened the door, just a crack. “Polly, what the heck happened here?  Who was at the pool?  They left a mess!  HOW did you get in the coop? There is a huge boulder rolled in front of the door.”  And on and on he went.  “I’m going to need to get some help to move it.  I’ll be right back.”   No…. I screamed inside my head.  Don’t leave me here…. alone…..    But no words would come out of my mouth.  I was in shock.

I can’t imagine how those chickens did it. Although later that day, I found what looked like the makings of some levers and pulleys behind a row of bushes, nearby.

There is so much more to this story, and I will continue when I regain my emotional strength. At any rate, until then, we have Fryers for sale. By the pound.

I wonder if Duck Eggs are any good?

Don’t become a mere recorder of facts, but try to penetrate the mystery of their origin.  —  Ivan Pavlov
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Science cannot solve the ultimate mystery of nature. And that is because, in the last analysis, we ourselves are a part of the mystery that we are trying to solve.  —  Max Planck

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