Black Plastic

Quick story of the day:

Walking out to jump in the Jeep and go to Quinlan’s basketball game against Arapaho, I glanced to the right and saw that black piece of plastic still stuck in my fence. I’d seen it last night, but being basically lazy, I hadn’t walked over to pick it up before it blew farther away. It was unusual, I don’t normally use those black bags… and it was stuck in the opening my rotten dogs had wormed into the fence to escape their “prison”. It was just weird enough to make me glance in its direction again… Vernon was waiting in the car.

And, then.

The black plastic moved and instead of a solid edge… I saw feathers. Feathers? What in the Sam Hill?

I laid my coat and water bottle down on my garden bench. Easing closer… Was it a turkey? No, by golly, it was my rooster! He has red on his shoulders and head but all I ever saw was his black bottom as he faced away from me. One claw on the ground, his neck twisted peculiarly, and the other claw hung in the fence. I grabbed around his breast, lifting him high enough I could untangle him from the wire. “Don’t you peck me, you stupid thing,” I insisted.

He’s a rather large rooster, so I had my arms full as I yelled out to Vernon. “He’s alive. I’m going to put him in the coop, can you grab my stuff off the bench?” Walking down, he straightened his neck out – probably unkinking the crick of the century. His leg wasn’t cut, but it was swollen. “You’re a dumb bird. A lucky, dumb bird.” I thought of him caught there for at least 24 hours… probably petrified every time my dogs wanted to escape my yard, literally jumping right over him. I’m astonished they didn’t kill him… an upside down, trapped, flapping bird is pretty hard for a dog to resist.

Why didn’t I miss him when I gathered eggs? Well, I don’t count them every night… and it was cold and dark and I rushed through the coop, not seeing the Big Guy wasn’t in attendance. Even if I’d noticed he was gone, would I have made the connection to what I thought was a piece of plastic caught in my fence? I doubt it.

Anyway, Lucky, or Peg Leg or Hop-along or whatever his name will become (because certainly this adventure requires him to be granted a name) was happy to be in the coop. Yes, he’s weak and very thirsty and kind of hungry and very, very sore on that leg. If he survives the night will be step one. He may need isolation if the hens peck on him too much, Step Two. Step Three will just be to keep an eye on the situation… chickens are MEAN.

He was making us late for Quinlan’s game… so I patted him on his comb and wished him well. He was alive the few hours later… I will check on him first thing.

By the way, Quinlan’s JV game was a win over Arapaho and the varsity was quite the show, with us finally winning it. The Arapaho, as a Nation, do love basketball and it’s pretty darn difficult to out run and out shoot them. It’s a physical game and you better be prepared for it! They’ve got talented boys and it makes for a fun game!

No photos… it’s an imagination night…

Find me here!

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