Will Never Learn.

I'll probably never learn.

Yesterday I came home from work and, with a goodly amount of daylight left, thought I'd let the chickens out into the yard for some exercise and wild scratch. Hither and fore they roamed without a care and nary did they once stray to the neighbors yard. Thus, I went about my business inside while they found an old, untilled flower bed that had last years' flowers coming up again. Lots of new shoots and bugs to eat there!

After a time, I realized my wife would be home soon and I should think about getting some dinner together for her. I am, perhaps, the worst cook. I cook only just so well so as not to die and my wife is eternally patient and grateful for a hot meal that she didn't have to cook herself ... No matter how terrible it might taste!  Needless to say, knowing the task would require my full attention, I brought out treats, pitched them in the empty run, and set about to gather the flock.

Already they had spit apart from the safety of numbers - much to Coq Au's consternation. So I rounded up two or three groups and herded them toward the safety of the run for the night.

Initially the usual complaints were being issued.
"Hey, it's still light out!"
"Quit pushing, I'm going!"
"But I was gonna go scratch around the compost for a while!"

And so forth. The whole, long way. At least until the lead hen spotted treats in the run, then the mad dash begins.

One inside, I took a quick beak count. Six hens and one angry rooster. We're short two hens.

Coq Au was already agitated and bordering on apoplectic over the missing hen and he, now on the other side of the closed run door, could do nothing other than pace and complain.

"I know, I know!" I said. "Keep your feathers on, I'm gong to get them!"

A quick trip around the side of the hose found Lily who had just discovered she was all alone. Charging forward as fast as her waddling legs could move her, she huffed and puffed back to the run for the safety and comfort of the flock. Coq Au was partially satisfied, but one was still missing.

I had just began the search wen herself pulled into the driveway, all smiles at finally being home from work. I clued her in to the missing hen, but by now we knw the drill. We don't panic, we just know where the usual places are that she might be hunkered down in.

Who was missing? Hortense of course. The eternal 'me time' girl.

I checked by the compost, no luck. We looked under the canoe, nothing. My wife searched the thick knotweed while I peeked under the shrubbery in front. No sign.

We were just about to start getting worried and I began to take another circuit around the property.

It's just not that big of a property. Sure, she's one small hen, but she should've been found by now.

Half a loop later and she was in that old garden bed, wedged under some weeds/flowers, whatever ... In the failing light of the evening sun her black feathers blended in perfectly to near invisibility.

And she was dirt bathing.

"I hoe you're proud of yourself, you had us scared for a moment!" I said as I picked up the relaxed and unmoving hen.

"Y'know what? Yer darn right I'm proud of myself! I had a long luxurious dirt bath while everyone else was being corralled in. Sorry/not sorry!"

Oh well, she missed out on treats! "That'll teach her!" I briefly, but foolishly thought. Then I remembered that you really just can't teach a chicken anything.

Especially Hortense.