I had to have the following conversation with my neighbor’s middle-aged son.
Me, at the front door: “Um, hi. Sorry to bother you, but have you seen my chicken?”
Him: “Oh that’s yours? My dad was going to go buy some feed.”
Me: “Yeah, it’s mine. She learned how to get out and now we can’t find her. If you see her, she answers to the name of ‘Trish.'”
Him: “I had some chickens when I lived in Pooler. They are unusual animals.”
Occasionally, Trish has flown the coop. Once nabbed and returned, she usually stays in for a few days. Yesterday, though, she was bold. Every time Eddie and I went outside, she was out of her yard. We must have captured her six times. And Eddie was mad because she kept kicking the pine straw out of the flower beds.
Today, we came home around lunchtime and she was gone. Yes, I walked around our house and the neighborhood hollering “Trish!” and feeling like a buffoon. I figured I would only worry if she didn’t return to the coop at night.
I started to wash my car and I heard Dominic yelling, “Mama, I found Trish!” I looked up and saw him coming from the side yard holding Trish to his chest. She seemed oddly content. Apparently, she had been amusing herself near the backyard fence. I don’t know how I could have missed her when I was walking around.
I knew it was time to clip her wings to avoid future AWOLs. Trish = grounded.
Clipping in progress
The result. No birds were harmed in the clipping of the wing.
We’re rednecks. My shirtless kids like to hang out with the chicken.
Observe and report 
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