Athos, Porthos, Aramis

What a nerve-wrecking afternoon! Why is it that when in a hurry to get home there is a major traffic jam? Needing to get home to handle a small crisis, unfortunately, for those involved as well as myself, there had been an accident at the Hub. For the most part I was able to circumvent the back-up on the boulevard by taking the bike route home. Word had it that one chicken was MIA so I was more than anxious to get home and search for her. I couldn’t help but worry if MIA would come to mean a dreaded casualty, a state that everyone has repeatedly warned us about. Dogs, coyotes, raccoons, hawks, weasels, Lochness, you name it, predators are lurking everywhere. Thinking about the accident though I wondered if a chicken had tried to cross the road. (Sorry, bad humor.)

As luck would have it, I made it home in about 30 minutes so there was still ample light to search for my search. Since chickens are known to come home to roost, I thought possibly I could encounter her sauntering down Brookside after her afternoon tryst. I circled Rivera on foot and even checked the creek. There was no sign of fowl play - meaning, no strewn feathers or blood stains in plain sight. Who knows what evidence hid behind fences? Back in the yard, the remaining five seemed out of sorts. Could they actually miss their cohort?

After thumbing through the mail, with inability to focus, I opened the front door and peered longingly outside. Dog walkers would be making their rounds and I would ask if they had seen my hen. Perhaps a strange question, but a valid one. In the distance I heard a female voice calling for her cat, Elvis, but he too was AWOL. Is this the beginning of a trend? What’s with these animals? While our cat poked in the front garden I heard voices parading down the street. My ears perked up when I heard the word “chicken” - no, I thought, merely the power of suggestion. And again I heard, “...chicken...” Could they be discussing dinner and the need to hurry home? After hearing what may have been a debate on the health of chickens, I wasted no time and approached three boys deep in conversation. I was prepared to admit I was eavesdropping in the wings and asked directly if they were talking about chickens. Did they find a chicken?!? YES!

These three muskateers, who couldn’t have been cuter, and by my guess about nine years old, had found a solo chicken this afternoon. They pointed to the exact spot of rescue where my trail of evidence had abruptly ended. My hen, it seemed, had last been scratching under a pine tree near the easement between our driveway and the neighbor‘s wooded front yard. When the boys saw a chicken, a strange sight in this surburban neighborhood, the two brothers and their friend decided immediately to scoop up this chicken and get her to safety. They first tried one house for boarding, but Dad no. 1, who I learned keeps three chickens, turned her away being concerned about disease. Second choice was the house of the two brothers a few long blocks beyond the alleyway of 50 or more stairs. When they explained they took the chicken to their house, the one with the slide, I was relieved beyond belief. They had placed her in safekeeping in a box after she escaped their hospitality of their playhouse. These guys are now my biggest heroes!

By the way, Dad no. 2 had been trailing behind the boys on their trek back to the rescue scene. The three were clearly on their second mission of the day. Dad no. 2 thanked me in advance for not having to keep a chicken in his bedroom tonight. (He was probably as relieved as I was.) With hen clutched safely in my arms, I raced home being accutely aware I might encounter a dog not on leash. At last, back in the yard: six chickens. The three muskateers saved the day! I can't thank them enough. Thank you Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, my heros!