With so much being argued over and debated in our community, I thought I’d share with you an update on a different kind of squabbling.
When we brought BE, our hen, home along with her nine feathered sisters, it was obvious that she was not in her “good place”. Chest thumping, hanging out on her own with a pensive look in her eyes. The world had bigger plans for BE. Much more than this heated coop with light sensitive automatic door. An abundance of organic food and fresh water. All, on almost an acre of free range living. No sir, not for this one. The fancy black feather comb over “a la Elvis” made her look more like one of the artists that participated on Art on the Farm rather than the other grain pecking ladies on this stretch of land. It was only a matter of time before BE would seek better accommodations.
“Hello Guy? This is Sarah, one of your neighbors along the back. Are you missing a chicken?” That’s the call I was waiting for. But living in Wheat Ridge, not a big deal. As my friend City Councilor Rachel Hultin, coined the slogan; “Keep it Quirky Wheat Ridge”. We tolerate, boast about, and even promote living next to livestock, including horses, peacocks and even hens and roosters (yes, Wheat Ridge does allow for roosters).
With my leg still in a brace, I made my way to the street behind and there she was up high in the pine tree. Sarah’s family quickly climbed the tree in pursuit of BE. She flapped her wings and actually flew from the tree to the roof of the next neighbor and then into their backyard. We did manage to catch up with her and brought her home. Within 10 minutes, she was standing in the middle of the yard, looking at the six foot fence. I could already guess her next move.
BE did fly the coop that day and has been living in that pine tree for the last 4 weeks. I think that’s where she belongs. We leave her food and water and she flies in daily and then back up to sleep. Even during this arctic blast vortex she remained up high and slept up in the tree. With the body temp at around 109F, BE is resilient to the freezing temperatures and blowing snow.
This morning, the other neighbor over called me to make sure I knew that BE was up in a new tree and that he has been dropping bread crumbs for her. Of course I thanked him and suddenly felt better about her chances of surviving. An entire neighborhood was now caring for BE.
Last month, after we lost 4 hens to a bald eagle, I decided that I would no longer name them. It was too hard. So no names and no emotional ties. but then here came BE into my life, and here I am no longer an empty nester.
As aways, thanks for reading.
