When Chickens Get Grounded

We have our hussies around here.  The white one I have been writing about since the beginning, as she is my oldest chicken, is the worst.  Ethel.  Always flying the coop (and then the fence).  Sophia and Yetta, the Araucanas followed and pretty soon I had a regular runway of chickens dancing up my driveway,  laying eggs under pumpkin leaves, and singing opera in the front yard.  Leo always coming over to tell me my chicken is out as nonchalant as if one of the kids were in trouble.  Then we found out our sweet neighbors next door have recently been shooing them out of the street.  Time for a change.

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We live on a major thoroughfare.  Constant traffic and even though the sign says 20 miles an hour, 50 is often the new 20.  We started looking to see how to clip their wings.  Their vagabond days are done.

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We spread Sophia’s wings which naturally extended the lower flight feathers which are longer.  A pair of sharp kitchen scissors easily cut through the lower half of those feathers.  Much like a craft project with feathers, it did not feel strange to cut them and Sophia didn’t flinch.  Then it was Yetta’s turn.  We could not catch Ethel to save our life.  Fast little bugger.  She spent yesterday in the front yard.  Sophia joined her.

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So this morning, before they could get their breakfast, we went into the coop and kidnapped Ethel, snipping both wings of flight feathers and Sophia’s other wing.  It didn’t hurt them and we have more fear of them getting hit by an oil truck then a coyote coming into the back yard.

We shall see today if all eighteen chickens in the back yard remain in the back yard!

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