About a month ago, we received an email. It was titled "Please help parking lot hen!!! Likely escaped from slaughter truck". Inside was more details: "We are on a road trip and stopped to feed her and giver her water but she was very skeptical and wouldn't take water. She's visibly very hot. I think she jumped off a slaughter truck. She's very smart. We tried to get her into a box to get her to safety but she outran us in the heat. Please let me know... -Alize"
She also provided us with a photo:
I was horrified when I got the email and I read it out loud to my husband. We had just gone through the hottest September on record in Florida and it was still sizzling out. A chicken was living in a parking lot? In this heat?! Even worse, when I Google mapped the location, she was in an ARBY'S parking lot and they were advertising "boneless chicken wings". This would not do. This would not do at all.
The next day, Doug and I headed out to the parking lot. It was about an hour away in the direction of Jacksonville. Alize had confirmed that the chicken was still there (she had called Arby's) and I had fashioned a "chicken catcher" out of a broom handle and a hanger. I had not idea what I was doing. Neither Doug nor I had ever cared for or even handled chickens. We were just doing what we always did: figuring it out as we go. We also did something else that we have a habit of doing. We named the chicken before we even saw her: Tina.
We spotted Tina before we even got into the parking lot. I could see her shape huddled under a car from a distance. Boy was it hot out. I knew it couldn't be very comfortable for her. Nothing is comfortable in that kind of weather!
We parked and approached her, me hiding the chicken catcher behind my back as much as possible. Some kind soul had put out water for her. We offered her some poultry pellets we brought with us and she regarded us warily. We tried to coax her out and it seemed like it juuuuuuust might work... until our first lunge at her. After that, there was zero trust and she subjected us to chasing her around the huge parking lot.
We chased Tina around and under cars, under rows of semis and past amused gas station patrons. Some offered unhelpful comments like "chickens are fast" and "it's gonna be hard to catch her". Others just shook their heads and stepped out of our way as we tumbled past them.
Tina put up a good fight and didn't seem to be worn out at all. Doug and I, on the other hand, were panting and sweating. While I was growing increasingly frustrated, Doug was getting more enthusiastic. I tried to stay positive but, an hour later, I was definitely starting to think we might have underestimated her.
She ran back under the car we had found her under initially and glared at me. I glared back at her. "You are NOT going to die in an Arby's parking lot!" I growled at her. She clucked at me and dodged behind the wheel. I lunged forward with the chicken catcher, not even being able to see her. I heard her squawk in surprise. I had her! I gently pulled the chicken catcher toward me and untangled her foot. As soon as I had her in my arms and cooed to her, she calmed down. She knew the fight was over.
After a victorious email to Alize, who was waiting for an update, we headed back to Snoot Farms. We introduced Tina to the coop and watched her roam around her new home. We knew that she would acclimate with patience and kindness...
Fast forward a month and Tina is doing very well. She briefly had a chicken buddy, Tammy, who ended up passing away due to an unknown illness. (R.I.P.) But she seems fine spending time with her six duck roommates, with whom she roams the grounds of Snoot Farms during the day. She has gravitated toward one duck in particular: Little King Trashmouth the Pirate, another renegade with a missing eye, a limp, and a peculiar story of his own. But that, my friends, is a tale for another day.
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