“’Mom! Mom! We found a lost chicken, we have to save it!’ My 12-year-old and her best friend came bursting through our side door.
‘What do you mean you found a lost CHICKEN?’
‘We were on a bike ride and we saw a random chicken just sitting on the side of the road all alone. C’mon, we have to save it.’
Folks, I grew up near New York City. The only thing I know about chickens is how to bake them at 350 degrees. Though I’ve adjusted fairly well to our life on an island in the Pacific Northwest, I often find myself in strange ‘you don’t see this in the suburbs’ predicaments.
‘Mom! C’mon, we have to get back there!’ My animal loving daughter was clearly on a mission, and I knew better than to argue. I grabbed my jacket and hiked 1/2 mile through the woods to find exactly what she said…a random chicken just sitting on the side of the road.
Friends, I know what to do when you find a DOG on the side of the road. You check its collar and call the owner. Easy peasy. But a collarless chicken? NOT so easy peasy.
I headed off in the direction of the nearest homes and spent the next hour or so knocking on doors, asking if anyone had lost a chicken. Met some nice people, but unfortunately, none of them were nice chicken owners.
I headed back to the girls, who were still guarding the chicken. It was getting dark quickly. ‘We can’t leave her here,’ my daughter pleaded. ‘A coyote will eat her.’ This was very true.
And then I remembered something that has been proven to me time and time again. When you live in a small town and you need help, people show up.
I called a friend, who called another friend, who called another friend. We finally reached the owner of a nearby stable, who said she would take in the chicken. BOOM…small town charm in action.
It was now pitch dark. And cold. We had been out there for over two and a half hours. ‘I’m freezing and hungry,’ I muttered.
‘Well…there’s only ONE thing to eat around here,’ my daughter quipped, looking ominously at the chicken. I laughed. This kid might be funny, too.
My chicken rescuer friends arrived, and the chicken was driven to the stables and placed in a safe, lovely coop.
All’s well that ends well.
The next morning when I woke up, my daughter was hurriedly getting dressed. ‘What are you in such a rush about?’ I asked her.
‘I’m going to visit Greta.’
‘Who??’
‘Greta Cluckingon. You know, our chicken!’
Oh, boy. And off she went.
And each day since then, I’ve watched her and her BFF ride off down the road, hair flying in the wind, to visit the little chicken they rescued.
Life this past year has been hard for these kids. Really, really, hard.
And so I savor these moments of joy in the chaos, these moments when she is still just a kid going for a bike ride, off in search of a new adventure with her very best friend.”
This story was submitted to Love What Matters by I Might Be Funny and originally appeared here. You can follow their journey on Facebook and their website. Be sure to subscribe to our free email newsletter for our best stories.
Read more stories like this here:
Do you know someone who could benefit from reading this? SHARE this story on Facebook with family and friends.