Herding Poultry in the Rain

About 4:15 this afternoon, I was reading transcripts in my office (with the lights off) when I noticed it had gotten so dark that I was having trouble seeing the words on the page.  A big old summer thunderstorm had rolled in and brought with it some rain--a lot of rain!

After a white-knuckled commute home, I popped into the backyard to check on the chickens and ducks.  

We've been letting "the girls" free-range during the day, but we prop the door to their coop open so that they can get back inside should they feel the need.  However, the winds from the storm were strong enough that the rock holding the door open had blown over, trapping everyone outside of the coop.

I quickly scanned the yard in the still pouring rain.  The ducks were quacking up like crazy.  If they could speak English they would have been saying prayers to the magical god who makes water come from the sky.  The chickens were huddling together in our fire pit, drenched and eying me evilly.  I believe I now have a better understanding of the phrase "mad as a wet hen".

The second I opened the coop door the chicks scurried inside and began preening themselves to get the nasty water out of their feathers.  

The ducks, on the other hand, were having far too much fun to be herded inside.  I went right, they went left.  We played ring-around-the-watermelon-patch.  I got Ella and Kaki inside, but then Macy ran the opposite direction, giving her sisters a chance to escape.  I was really just about to give up, but we were supposed to get some hail, and I didn't think that would be good for them.  

Finally--finally--I somehow got them all inside.  But Ms. Kaki let me know how she felt about it, honking angrily as I locked the coop door and headed for dryer environs myself.