The Prodigal Hen Returns
by Scott Smith
This evening a woman I had never laid eyes on showed up at my door with a hen in hand. Initially I was afraid that my hen had been hit by a car or had inconvenienced this woman in some other way. It turns out that my hen had made it’s way across the road about two months ago and had been unable to find it’s way home. It had apparently set up housekeeping in yet another neighbor’s lilac bushes and the nice lady who brought her home has been feeding her all this time. Today, having been worried about the cold weather we’ve been having and no shelter for the chicken at night she managed to trap the hen in her garage and then catch it. I thought it was awfully neighborly of her to carry my chicken home to me. I think I’ll deliver a goody and thank you tomorrow.
The hen (referred to as the “dinosaur chicken” by my daughter) seemed quite happy to be back home and found the feeder immediately even though the neighbor lady had just fed her enough cracked corn to cause her gizzard to feel like a bean bag.
Lest anyone think I’m callous for not knowing I was missing a hen, I do vaguely remember thinking that I had two like this one some time ago. So, it wasn’t completely unnoticed.