10/10/2026
Y’all remember my post last night about the 47 million things I had to do yesterday and the 82 million things waiting on me today?
Well, apparently one of my chickens read that post and said, “Hold my mealworms. I’m about to give this woman something ELSE to do.” 🙄
Let me set the scene.
It’s early. I haven’t had my coffee. I’m just trying to let my chicks and growouts out of their coop so I can get on with my day.
And yes, before anybody comes for me, I already have older chicks out on dirt. It’s 90-something degrees in Texas, and around here they graduate to outdoor living pretty quick. 😂 They have a secure coop where I lock them up every night and a run to enjoy during the day.
Now, EVERY SINGLE NIGHT I go out there and personally es**rt every stubborn little feathered pe**er into that coop if they haven’t gone in on their own.
Or so I THOUGHT.
Because this morning, as I’m standing there about to unlatch the coop door, I see something moving.
OUTSIDE. THE. ENTIRE. PEN.
Y’all.
A CHICK.
Just running around😳
EXCUSE ME, SIR?!?!
Somehow, this tiny little as***le managed to Houdini himself completely out of the pen sometime between my evening feeding, watering, and general chicken-sh*t duties and when I came back after dark to lock everybody up.
Which means…
THIS LITTLE IDIOT SPENT THE ENTIRE NIGHT OUTSIDE. ALONE. IN THE MIDDLE OF PREDATOR CENTRAL.
We live in the middle of nowhere. We have predators that fly, crawl, slither, dig, climb, and probably have a group chat discussing which of my chickens they’re going to eat next.
And somehow this little nugget survived an entire night of unsupervised freedom.
Not only survived, but was standing there this morning trying like HELL to get back IN. 🤦♀️
Oh, NOW you want back in?!?!
So naturally, I grab the net.
And for the NEXT HOUR, I proceed to chase this tiny feathered fugitive around the coop in what can only be described as a one-woman rodeo crossed with a very aggressive game of Ring Around the Rosie.
Around the coop we go.
And around.
And around.
Me with a net. Him with absolutely no intention of cooperating.
I’m sweating. I’m cussing. I’m questioning every life decision that led me to owning chickens.
BUT…
VICTORY WAS FINALLY MINE.
The fugitive has been apprehended. He’s back behind bars. And I’m finally sitting down to drink my FIRST cup of coffee.
Only about an hour later than planned.
And what’s the first actual job on today’s already ridiculous to-do list?
FIND OUT HOW HOUDINI ESCAPED A PEN THAT HAS NEVER HAD AN ESCAPE ARTIST BEFORE.
Because apparently I now have to conduct a full-scale security investigation into a chicken prison break.
It’s not even 9 a.m., and I’ve already had enough farm excitement for the entire weekend.
