I’ve been fortunate, in that, I have never lost a chicken. I have, however, adopted birds that have been dumped and found in the woods. That’s how I got my first rooster, a Japanese bantam, who was found at the side of the road.
What follows are a couple of tales of finding ‘extra’ chickens – a situation that many of us would be happy to deal with.
The Mysterious Chicken Count (Cyndia Lukaszewicz)
I have a weird situation and I need to know if anyone else has dealt with this before.
A couple of months ago, I somehow got an extra chicken. No explanation, just an extra one in my run out of nowhere. I assumed that somebody who knew I had chickens couldn’t take care of theirs and dropped it off at my house. No big deal.
Yesterday morning I let them out into the run and counted them one by one as I do every morning, then secured the run. Everything was in order. My sons and I go outside about every four hours to check for eggs, but I don’t count chickens each time.
At the end of the night, they were in their run lined up on the perch. I did my nightly count and discovered an extra chicken. I counted and counted and there was definitely an extra. It was dark, so I thought, “Let me figure this out in the morning”. I secured the coop, locked them up and said goodnight.
This morning my kids and I wenr to investigate. There was still an extra chicken but not only that: I’m supposed to have two Barred Rocks. There is only one, but there are two extra brown ones!
I’m absolutely positive. I’ve counted and checked. I inspected the coop and run, no gaps or holes. The run and coop are always latched and secure. There’s no way a chicken opened the door, went in/out, and latched the doors behind itself.
So not only is someone giving me extra chickens, but now they’re stealing mine too? How does this make sense? I feel like I’m crazy, like this isn’t a normal situation. Has anyone dealt with something similar? I’m obviously getting cameras now.
My Rooster’s Doppelganger (Steph Anie)
I have a pretty great story to share so here goes:
I was a few hours from home, dropping my son to visit family, when I got a message from my neighbour asking if I was missing one of my roosters. We had had a nasty downpour the previous night, into this morning and I hadn’t seen my free-range flock as I left before the sun was up and it was still raining heavily. My birds do not leave my yard. They are a small flock and have everything they could dream of there.
I have had issues with predators (raccoons, foxes and coyotes) so considered the possibility and asked for a picture, explaining I would not be back for several hours.
The bird was drenched and obviously many birds look similar but I was pretty sure he wasn’t mine. I said I’d try to collect him, regardless, on my way home. My neighbour doesn’t keep chickens and was worried the bird would be hit by a car as it was near a relatively busy road. His house is on the way to mine so I figured I’d stop by on the way to see if the rooster was still there.
I pulled up to the neighbours and see the rooster is bigger than I thought and having dried since the picture, I felt it was likely my roo (minus his beautiful green tail feathers, which made me sad).
A**hole. Yes, that is his name. No, I did not name him. My 10 year-old did after he murdered our other two roos rather violently (they were stunning birds we loved very much and it was a brutal scene).
I got out to collect him and while approaching him, realized this likely meant my flock was gone as he’s a tough roo who would never abandon his girls. I approached him and he was frantically crowing and dodging me. I’m like, “I feed you every day and this is how you treat me?!” Obviously joking, resolved to the fact that he was likely traumatized.
After some cluckin’ wizardry and lots of patience, I grabbed the fella and tucked him into my jacket and hopped in the truck to head home. All the while, I’m reassuring A**hole that we are almost home and he’s going to be ok.
He’s soaked. I’m soaked. I’m heartbroken for him and dreading getting home and dealing with the feather-pile remnants of my once beautiful flock that I hand-raised from hatchlings. I pulled into my farm and made my way around the drive. I saw all of my chickens meandering out from under their shelter to greet me. ALL of my chickens.
A**hole, in all his glory, looks better than ever. He struts around, not a care in the world. I immediately look in my lap and think, “Who ARE you?!”
I’m apologized to the feral roo I snatched from his possile natural habitat and calling him a derogatory name. “Sorry, dude. It’s not what it sounded like!”
I have this random bird now and he’s living life in my guest bathroom (remember, A**hole has a body count). He’s dry and warm and the snacks are immaculate (raspberries, cat food, chicken food, crushed cashews, fresh parsley, to name a few).
I’m not sure any of it makes up for the way I snatched him by his little soggy tail and repeatedly called him A**hole, but it’s a start.
Thanks to Cyndia Lukaszewicz and Steph Anie for sharing their stories and photos. Featured photo credit: My So-Cal Backyard
Bitchin' Chickens 
Our chicken coop has gained three strangers over the years. People just chucked them over the fence! Stripes and Little Red were completely unique, so we knew right away, but Mystery nearly caused a mental breakdown! We had five black hens at the time, and suddenly there was an extra! We all thought we were going crazy or had forgotten how to count, but no, someone had “gifted” us an extra black hen. 3-4 years later they are still beloved flock members.
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