The feed store called me early in the morning to say our chickens were ready to be picked up! I was so excited! I had cleaned up the old chicken coop, laid pine shavings down for them, and was stoked to start getting free delicious eggs.
It was, of course, pouring rain.
I went to the feed store to get my chickens. They arrive all packed into these crates that are about 8″ tall and maybe 3’x3′ square, with probably 25 chickens in each one. The young guy at the feed store grabs out the chickens and, literally, hands them to me. Umm, what am I suppose to do with this? Was I suppose to bring a leash? Apparently I was suppose to bring a box with me, oops! They found me one and I headed home with my noisy chickens loaded up in the back of the van.
When I got home I was carrying the box full of chickens around the back of the house to the coop. Now, carrying a wide flat box full of distressed chickens isn’t the easiest thing. They were squawking and flapping and shifting their weight around, and I was juggling them like a pro (if I do say so myself) when suddenly, bam! I hit the icy pathway and fell down. I actually fell right down. Holding a box of chickens. I didn’t want to lose the chickens though, so I didn’t really break my fall at all. I went down on a rock on my elbow and knees. Somehow the chicken box went flying. Somehow the chicken box flipped upside down. Somehow the chickens escaped. Somehow there was panic everywhere!
So I got my first crack at catching loose, panicked chickens with one arm while simultaneously cursing the weather, the ice, and the universe in general.
For the love of all things farmy, I got the damn chickens in the coop. I was soaked from the rain, muddy from the fall, and fairly certain I’d broken my elbow. Did I mention it was my husband’s birthday that day? Well it was, and he spent his birthday dinner making Alphagettios for the kids while I sat in Urgent Care having my elbow x-rayed.
It’s got to get better from here, right?
*Spoiler Alert: It does.*