Silence of the Chicken

I never knew a chicken could scream. Truthfully, I don't know very much about chickens in general. In fact, most of what I know about chickens can be summed up in a simple sentence. They taste good. Still that does not mean I don't have a heart and I absolutely hate to hear animals in pain…even if they do taste good.

As the five or six of you that read my blog know, I have posted about chickens before. In fact, I took a snap shot of one with my camera phone and posted it on my blog. (Scroll down if you want to see the fowl.) These are very odd black and white fluffy chickens. You can't really see their eyes, but you can see their beaks. Well maybe they are not odd, but common. I really don't know. When I think chicken, this chicken is not the mental image I get in my head.

This particular chicken, I think I shall call Houdini, was quite the escape artist. There was no coop that could hold this bird. I often found him sitting on top of the coop, or on the fence between my neighbor's yard and mine. Houdini never really strayed far from home. Then, Houdini became brave. I suppose like most adrenaline junkies, the chicken had to constantly push the boundaries to get the same high. Junkies get faster cars, jump out of planes at higher altitudes, jump wider canyons, all for that rush. Houdini…his poison…exploring.

It seems Houdini was very much the explorer scout. This is how I came to meet shim (I really don't know if Houdini was boy or girl, nor was I interested in finding out). I came home from work one day and let the dogs out in the back yard. I sat down to wait for the mutts to do their thing. When out of the corner of my eye, I caught this movement right behind my shoulder which startled the hell out of me. I jumped out of the chair. In mid air I spun around, ready to defend against any pending attacks. There on the window ledge was Houdini. Thankfully, Houdini did not move while the dogs were around. They would have gone crazy and it probably would have been all feathers and nonsense. So I snapped a couple of pictures, blogged one of them, and got the dogs inside. I left Houdini alone, thinking that the bird would eventually go home.

When I got home from work the next day, Houdini was still there. He was even in the same spot on the window ledge where he was the night before. I believe he did at one point leave the ledge as there was chicken shit all over my patio. Once again he remained frozen as I brought the dogs in and out to do their business. Then it was time to go next door and have the neighbor come remove his chicken. (Can you tell I live in a city with a million some people???)

Chicken removed, all was well in the world. The chicken was safe; the dogs could roam the back yard unsupervised, and I could focus on getting other things accomplished. It was even kind of a cute story. I would send the picture of Houdini via my phone to friends and family. Look, how funny, a chicken is on my ledge. I thought that perhaps Houdini's exploring days were over. After all, he got to take his great adventure, and now the master knew of his escapes and would surely put an end to any further explorations.

The next day started normally, I got up (late) and went to work (okay rushed to work). I did work things, had lunch at my desk, and then did more work things. Then I went home. There was not so much rushing on the way home, as rush hour is anything but. Still, eventually I made my way home. Houdini had not come back over. Dogs went out to do their business; I got ready to go meet up with friends. We were going to watch movies and eat fabulous food. Then it happened.

All of a sudden, I heard this horrible screaming. It was a bone chilling caterwauling. My dogs were going crazy. They were barking hysterically trying to get outside to the back yard. Then I hear the screaming again. It sounded like cats in pain; just a terrible sound. Then, silence. The screaming had stopped. So I went out to the back year to investigate.

At first I really didn't notice much. Nothing seemed out of place, and I thought indeed it was just two cats fighting. Then I saw it, floating gently on the breeze. It was a black and white feather. I walked closer towards the floating feather and spotted another and another. They seem to be coming up from my other neighbor's yard. I walked over to the fence, and before I even reached the fence, I saw black and white feathers all over the ground. It looked like it could have been a CSI crime scene.

Finally I reached the fence, peeked my head over the top, not really wanting to see what was on the other side. There I saw my neighbor's big black dog. He was facing away from the fence. He was surrounded by feathers, but I could see no bird. The dog must have heard me because he turned and looked at me. He gave me that look that guilty dogs give. It’s a look all dog owners know well. It is the "I've been busted but if I look innocent and act like I did nothing wrong maybe I won't get in trouble" look. Black dog had black and white feathers hanging out of his mouth.

Then he moved to the side, as if to say, okay you caught me. There on the ground, by the shed, in my neighbor's yard was Houdini. Dead. Poor Houdini had made his last foray into the wild unknown.

It is comforting to know that he died doing what he loved. It is my sincere belief that wherever chickens go after death, Houdini is there, exploring distant worlds, dodging big black dogs, and covering others peoples patios in chicken shit.
RIP Houdini ???? – 2005