I really need to get screens for my windows…probably a few screen doors too. And not just because of the bugs, even if it could be argued that this is a good enough reason all on it’s own (it definitely is.) Bugs are the least of my worries. Don’t get used to me saying that…bugs are almost always the MOST of my worries when it comes to open windows and doors. Not today. No, today I had bigger problems to deal with.

First off, I don’t have any pictures. Not because you don’t deserve pictures, you certainly do. And if I hadn’t been so busy, frantically trying to rectify the situation, I would have gladly snapped as many as I could, but as it was, I was far too busy chasing chickens to take pictures of them.

It’s not the first time a chicken has wandered into my house. We keep the window open in the kitchen when it’s hot. It’s just convenient. I don’t have to let the cat in and out when he can use the window. But frequent trips in and out in front of the nosy chickens proved to be too much temptation.

Don’t let anyone tell you chickens are stupid. Just watch that movie, Chicken Run, and you’ll realize they’re plotters…chickens. And my chickens were plotting to get inside from the first moment they watched the cat do it. But still, they stayed out for the most part.

Until today.

Today was one of those insane days that makes the theme song to Benny Hill play inside your head on a constant loop. It was like an old keystone cops silent film…only way louder.

I turned around, while eating my breakfast, to find the little rooster wandering in the back door. The dog just looked at him like he was crazy. I tried to shoo him out, but he was determined to look around first. He hid under the table where the dog couldn’t reach him, or theoretically couldn’t reach him, because the dog is taller than the table. But one should never underestimate a determined dog, and like an episode of Looney Tunes, where Foghorn Leghorn torments the barnyard dog, my little rooster, Clooney, was teasing my mastiff until he could take it no more and he wedged himself under the table, lifting it off the ground like a saddle.

The sounds of a rooster squawking could be heard all the way in the yard, which apparently drew a crowd, because before I knew it, I had several more juvenile chickens running around in my kitchen…and the neighbor’s puppy too!

Cue the Benny Hill theme song.

Dogs chasing chickens…kids chasing dogs…barking…squawking…shrieking. And this was just the first act! As one chicken was shooed out the door, another came in through the window.

And then I heard it…the yelling from deeper within the house. “Hey, Mom…did you know the Henrietta’s are in Mike’s office?”

Ummm…no?

Cue more Benny Hill music.

I ran down the hall to my husband’s office to see two large chickens flying around, landing on the computer monitors, the grandfather clock, my husband’s prized guitar…and my daughter and her boyfriend trying to catch them like some sort of bizarre video game come to life.

I was shouting instructions on how to catch an errant chicken as each of the kids grasped a bird and rushed them through the house to the back door. But not before at least one of them left a calling card.

Isn’t there a saying about bird poop being good luck? Yeah, it’s crap…just so you know…the saying, I mean. Bird poop is just messy.

But, hey…life is messy, right? That’s what makes it so much fun.

Until the next time…I’ll be cleaning the floors!