Prayers and a Season of Sleepless Nights

The truth is, despite their relative youth and diminutive size, the new little girls are a bad influence.  Oh, I know they look innocent enough, but don't let that shy appearance fool you.  Undeterred by the electric net fencing, they slip nonplussed between the strands out onto the grounds beyond to undertake a more literal free-ranging, unapologetic that the older, larger Iowa Blues with whom they share the annex are enticed to follow. 

We haven't had this problem before -- not leastwise, it's true, because we have generally started with older birds.  That said, the Blues arrived a month ago at precisely the same age and expressed no dissatisfaction with their habitat.  Until, that is, they were seduced by Welly and Amy -- the now 7-week old gift birds I received from friends as appreciation for my several months of off-farm work that are coming to an end.  I value the gift, but it is keeping me up at night.

There are, after all, predators out there.  Chickens, as more than one expert has pointed out, are the snack food of the food chain.  Everybody likes to eat chicken.  I certainly know that my electrified circumference is little enough deterrence for a determined raccoon or fox or coyote or, let's face it, anything else with an active appetite and a willing set of teeth.  But they don't have to make it easy. 

Like any adolescent sneaking out of the house when they think no one is looking, they are oblivious to the risks.  In thrall to the age-old delusion that "the worms are always longer on the other side of the fence," they slip the cords and scratch contentedly under the nearby tree.  So far, like a helicopter parent, I have found them soon enough and encouraged them homeward.  I can almost see them rolling their eyes at my hyper sense of precaution, but I can live with their disdain.  It's preferable to a mauled carcass. 

Eventually, I know, they will outgrow the opportunity.  In a matter of weeks their maturing girth will no longer permit such unsanctioned excursions.  In the meantime I am trying to make "home" a more appealing option by sprinkling scratch -- chicken candy, as it were -- more liberally around the coop.  It has the double advantage of enticing them to stick around and accelerating their weight gain.  In addition I'm going to encourage their older roommates to start exerting a more positive influence.  After all, it's their feathers in the game too.  It's time they started acting their age. 

Who am I kidding?  If I haven't yet started doing that -- a reasonably intelligent, well-educated and occasionally prudent adult -- why do I think it will happen with youthful chickens?

So, keep them in your prayers.  I'd like to see them live long enough to lay an egg or two.