Who takes pictures of chickens? I do when the situation presents itself. I was almost home from the morning walk and turned into our street. A chicken was strutting about on the lawn at the turn, clearly pleased to be there. Oh, no! Could it belong to our neighbors across from us who were away on vacation? Without thinking twice, I whipped out the toy camera and shot it. I talked to it for a minute and went home, wondering if I should text Shawn. I wouldn’t know how to handle a chicken, but I would have tried if she told me what to do. There ensued a string of messages.
Anne: Something fowl in Angie’s yard a few minutes ago. Brown with red comb. Hope it’s not yours. No others visible.
S: Oh, no!!!! Alive or dead?
A: Very much alive. If I see it again, what should I do? I took a photo. Don’t know that I could send it here.
S: Yes, u can send it here. If you can grab her they usually lay down for you and can u put her in the coop?
A: Did the pic come through?
S: Yes, but we don’t think she’s ours. Our friend that’s caring for them is now heading over to check.
A short while later:
S: It’s not our chicken! Belongs to the teen who lives there.
A: Sorry to have troubled you about the chicken. Wanted to help if it had been yours.
S: No I’m so thankful you did as a fox could have gotten in the coop. Hence the fear.
I was relieved to see lights on in their house a few days later. I would be off chicken duty, with no need to take identity shots again.
John came in from our front porch and told me the neighbors were on their roof, cleaning the gutters. That was something I didn’t want to miss. I shouted to ask if I could take a picture, and they gave permission. I tell you, living in the Smokies is one fun adventure after another. I laughed when the owner sprayed the teen with the hose. It was a very warm day and undoubtedly felt good. If I’d been gardening, I might have gone over asking for a spray myself.