It's a Long Story.....

Been meaning to mention for OVER A YEAR that in addition to all the animals I listed on the Snow White post, there is a hen in the Park too. That's right, a lone hen. Someone must have dropped her off there and she'd been managing to live there for gawd-knows how long.

I was astonished when I first discovered her, thanks to a homeless man who pointed her out to me, happy to be talking to someone, someone who clearly loves animals as much as he does. The guy, looked like he could not feed himself, but I've seen him often wandering the perimeter of The Park with a bag of peanuts in the shell (the most economical thing to feed the squirrels). He pointed toward the vine covered, ramshackle shed where the children's train was kept at night. There in the side was a hole, and hovering at it's entrance was a black hen!

She tentatively peeked from the safety of her shelter when I tossed some bread her way. But she would not come out to eat until I stepped way back. When I did, she pecked what I had brought. So I started to go by to feed the chicken on my rounds.

Last Fall, The Park started a remodeling project of the very area where the hen lived. Construction trailers, tractors, shovels, cement, metal poles, spools of heavy wire, bright blue Port-a-pottys and lots and lots of men in work boots and hard hats invaded the grounds and dug everything up. I approached the foreman and asked if he was aware of the chicken, which he said was. I asked if I could bring some chicken scratch by he said they'd be happy to give it to her, but that they also fed her (I assumed, pizza scraps). I liked the thought of all these big bruisers caring for the girl. I continued to check every time I visited the park or the zoo, and most times I'd see the chicken in the area near the trailers. As the site morphed, I noticed at times she was penned, so they were making an effort to protect her.

Flash foward to last weekend, opening day of the new park area. I was driving on the heavily trafficked road between the Zoo and the golf course and I spotted a large black bird at the edge of the curb. I made a stop in the lane so I could get out (no one was immediately behind) and throw her some bread. OK, I have to say it. The chicken was about to CROSS THE ROAD, and I was tossing the bread in the other direction, to lure her away from the edge. Why WAS this chicken trying to cross the road? To get to the golf course? Not on a busy Easter week Saturday on the main drag near the Zoo! After all she'd been through, as described above, she could not end her life as road kill.

Had I been able, I'd have taken time to scoot her back further, to the safety of some kind of bushes at least... and I had to summon the strength to let it go as I drove away. But you bet your arse I was back there the next day, and with food.

She must have gotten used to people and loud noise and chaos, because when I saw her, she actually came running up to me. I had cracked corn in my pocket. Plenty of it! I was SO HAPPY to see she was still alive... We'd also just had two days straight of monsoon-like rain and thunderstorms. Half the area was flooded. This one's a survivor for sure.



I felt bad, that she must be very hungry. I wish I had a yard, because I'd love to catch her and give her a good home. I know she's survived all this time, now without a shelter. Maybe she likes it, and is an independent single....um,... chick... but maybe she's scared and lonely. I can't claim to know. Do chickens think? (that's another post)

Here she is running up to me. This time I hope it's that she's been totally socialized, not that she's starving under the fluff of all those feathers.

Oh, and did you hear that crazy mechanical kind of wind up to the long tailed grackle behind her? I am so glad to finally get that on film. I'll write about it in the next post.... back to the chicken. OUTRAGEOUS is it not?!?!?!

I went back today on my bike with more grain, looking for her, but didn't see her. I'll try again in a few days. She's obviously getting along just fine, but of course, I worry.