Daily Prompt: 


Clichés become clichés for a reason. Tell us about the last time a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush for you.

Anyone who raises birds, especially chickens can answer this question quite easily. The quick comeback would be  The last time this cliché was True? Why today and everyday I have anything to do with those dim-witted but strangely adorable hens.

Every spring, once the weather was warm enough and the chicks lost their down and all their feathers had come in, we were forced to literally pick up every single little chicken and throw them out the small door into their fenced in run. As soon as they were off the slanted plank walkway, they tried to scramble back in. Since we raise free range chickens it was of paramount importance that they spend their days outside. In fact after about ten minutes we could not convince them to go back into the large chicken coop because they relished the weeds, bugs and scratching the dirt for tiny seeds and grain which we scattered around everyday.

Now this Operation  DDDD Chicken Day had to be planned and manned by at least 6 kids plus myself. It took a few years to perfect our plan or attack on the cowering mass of chicken chickens. Nothing is more frustrating than catching a bird, while trying to herd out a couple more, only to loose all three. You must understand that we are talking about 175 meat birds, bred to eat voraciously . Our final method involved at least one or two children outside, preventing a mass retreat back into the chicken coop and also prevent clustering around the door Basically it was a crowd control issue.

Inside four kids held hug sheets of plastic to herd the birds in the direction of the hatch and I grabbed them one by one and pushed or threw them out the door. You cannot possibly imagine how many Ducked, Deeked, Dodged and Dived out of our hands. In frustration we often would try to grab two birds but trust me folks,

 a bird in the hand was worth two in the bush

8 thoughts on “Cliché

  1. My uncle owned a chicken farm in New Jersey. I used to spend a week there every summer. It was great getting away from all those crazy kids in Brooklyn. Compared to them the chickens seemed relatively intelligent and sane.


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