There was a day where raising chickens made me feel like Wile E. Coyote…
My time as an egg rancher had provided my feeble body with a few benefits. No, it didn’t get me in shape. No, it didn’t …. well, whatever else you are wondering about that would matter to normal people. I did however develop better dexterity. Not with anything practical, like useful hand eye coordination. Quite specifically, I developed the ability to catch chickens like a skilled Kung Fu master. Like Rocky Balboa being yelled at by Mickey, at the end of his montage. Ok, I wasn’t amazing, but I was better than most.
One day, several of the chickens had escaped their enclosure to discover the horrors of unprotected freedom. I tried to catch them before the coyotes did … but this one day, I met my match.
This plucky poultry really tried my patience. Her fast little feet and sharp eyes kept her well away from me. I couldn’t get within 10 feet of the spry hen. Then I had her cornered … literally where the fence formed a corner. I had my feet in a wide stance squatted low, my hands were held out, fingers spread, to create a barrier for the feathered fiend. The chicken would stretch it’s neck to my right and I shifted my weight blocking its path! It would take a step left and again I blocked. It faked right and went back left. I saw right through her clever facade and anticipated it perfectly! I was slowly encroaching, moving my feet by mere inches at a time.
Finally, I was within arms grasp of this little gal and was ready to place a perfectly timed grab when she stopped and stared me right in the eye. Her little chicken eyes locked with mine and for a moment we both stopped and sized each other up. Then she BOLTED straight at me, toward my wide set legs! My hands flung together and …. barely missed her. My hands missed each other too and my arms whiffed passed one another as the streak of red feathers flew beneath me. Another problem I became aware of is that my center of mass shifted forward during the sudden unsuccessful strike and I was too far forward now. I realized helplessly that I would not be able to compensate in time as I fell, face first into the dirt.
In the distance I swear I can hear a faint …. “Beep Beep”. You win this round, Roadrunner Chicken!