A big week on the farm...

I don't know if I ever posted the story of Mrs. Kravitz the chicken.

Mrs. Kravitz was found in a tree in Woodbridge, Virginia.

As I’d wanted chickens for a long, long time – ever since meeting my sister’s chickens in Colorado – and Margie had responded with a resounding NO, NO, NO.

Until one day she was sitting out in the sunshine enjoying her yard when the neighborhood children came running up asking for her husband. “He’s got to get a rooster out of a tree!!” they said.

Rooster? Woodbridge? Those who have been to Woodbridge, Virginia, know that it’s not the sort of place where livestock runs freely.

Margie determined that it was not a “rooster” in a tree but was most definitely a squawky little red hen.



Mark arrived via dually pickup truck and he walked up the street to the ornamental cherry tree. As he headed up the parking lot, a swarm of children followed a la the Pied Piper of Hamlin. Mark went back into the house and arrived back with a dog crate, nets, and other implements of Chicken Catching Paraphernalia and headed up the street.




Now, having never been involved in a Great Chicken Capture before, they had to "wing" it on our own. Come up with a plan, etc. Suggestions to throw sticks at it and knock it down were quickly eliminated, as was heaving a football at it.

"We don't want to hurt it or chase it, we want to sort of shoo it down and pop the net over it" she explained as I tried vainly to get the kids to back off a bit.

Mark climbed the tree.



The onlookers pushed closer in a circle around the tree. The chicken let out a disturbed "Gobba gobba gobba bock!" and the crowd retreated as if performing some bizarre maypole dance. The chicken flew higher up in the tree.

Not to be defeated, Mark continued his climb.

The chicken took flight across the parking lot and landed in a tall oak tree.



We’ve got to give it to him, he sure is tenacious.



The neighbors stared. The chicken retreated to an even HIGHER tree. Mind you, they’re only supposed to be able to fly about 2 and a half feet.



This keeps going on for a while.



Several days later, Mark finally captures the chicken, who we name Mrs. Kravitz, for the nosy neighbor in Bewitched. And boy, is she JUDGY. We didn’t really think that chickens could be so judgmental, but my, we were incorrect.