Talk about working for food. The other day when I let Phoebe out, I noticed she was spending a lot of time hanging around the back portion of our fence--the section that runs around a mass of large bushes in an area where she does not usually travel. In fact, she would not even come in when I called, which was most definitely un-Phoebe-like behavior.
When she refused to come in last evening, I decided to see what could be holding her captive. Maybe another rabbits nest, I thought, as I crawled under the bushes. Not rabbits. Instead, it was chicken.
More specifically a piece of fried chicken that a landscaper had forgotten to pick up after lunch and was conveniently located just on the other side of our fence. For the past two days, Phoebe had been digging a hole under the chicken wire that covers our English hurdle fence, determined to get to that chicken. By the time I caught her, she had fashioned a fairly good sized burrow although I don't think that she would be able to get under the fence.
But don't tell her. She was planning the Great Escape--all to get to that chicken. Thwarting her plans involved me a) disposing of the chicken piece, b) plugging up the hole with large rocks (the dirt was just going to come out as soon as I pushed it back in) and c) convincing her that the chicken was well past its prime.
Talk about the chicken crossing the road. In this case it was Phoebe who was trying to get to the other side!
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment