Panic happened briefly on Saturday, amidst and exceedingly good, social and productive weegend.
We were working in the yard, both front and back, and decided to let the chickens run free in the back, feeling they were purty safe since they are much bigger now, and we were also checking in on them regularly. They do so love wallowing around in the garden, rolling around in their dirt bathyness, picking at every little thing, and visiting with us.
So, after finishing one last task out front, we walked down the side of our house, and there was Percy, alone, walking toward us, determinedly. Percy's never been in that area before, and certainly rarely is alone for more than two seconds, as Mercy is basically connected at the hip. N and I both said, "where's Mercy?" and "uh-oh" simultaneously, and I started to run, Percy hurrying behind us.
Fucking neighbor's cat was in the yard, stalking, in the grass.
My heart dropped as I chased her away, and no Mercy in sight.
N grabbed Percy and put her in their box, and I, with that sinking feeling, started calling for Mercy, scanning the yard. No Mercy, no Mercy, no Mercy. (No, I'm not missing the irony there.)
N asked if maybe she'd flown over the fence, I just didn't know....then, I saw her. At least part of her wing....
We have a large pile of bricks on our patio, waiting to be utilized. Leaning up against it, in lean-to fashion, is a square cement paver. All I could see was her back, with a wing sort of tweaked. I started toward her, calling her name and "chick chick chick", thinking "oh god, this is it." She then popped out her head from behind the paver and pulled herself up and leaned toward me. I scooped her up in a second flat and tucked her into my body, petting and soothing her.
She had a little cut near her beak, and her heart was racing a gazillion miles an hour, not unlike mine, I suppose. She seemed to really appreciate the cuddles and petting and soothing. She looked up at me, as if to say, "I'm okay." I think she actually might have received the little slice on her face when she buried her head.
Three things came out of this for me (besides no alone time in the garden for them, at least for now.):
1. Chickens are supposed to be dumb.
2. Percy came to find us when there was danger.
3. Mercy hid all her vulnerable bits under cement so the cat couldn't whack her. Her hefty body wasn't an easy target, but her head and face certainly were.
What a trip. I love our chickens.
