Oops, Gus Did It Again

Recently, I wrote about Gus, our Yellow Labrador Retriever, as a bird dog who can retrieve chickens. See “Chicken Dog” post. His skills have still not been honed to carry chickens in such a manner that the chicken survives the experience. Consequently, I have found work as an undertaker.

After the first accidental death of a hen in the vicinity of the hen house, Gus was fired from his previous job of accompanying me when I feed the chickens and gather eggs. He still helps feed the horses with me but, of course, Gus does not carry horses around.

Regarding chickens, Gus makes a distinction concerning their location. He apparently believes that if he is not welcome in the chickens’ territory, then, in fairness, chickens are not welcome in his territory. His territory includes an area which we human residents refer to as “the courtyard.” This courtyard is nothing like a courthouse. No cases are tried there. It is just a patio with walls around three sides. My wife does not approve of chickens pooping, you know, chicken sh*t, on the patio made of stones. She would not like poop on concrete either, it is just that stones are harder to clean, in my opinion. Gus has likely heard Miss Sugar complain about our free range chickens coming into the courtyard.

Accordingly, when a couple days ago a black hen was spotted on the patio by Gus, he very, very quickly removed it. He caught it in a corner. It squawked as it was captured but not a feather was lost. Gus held the hen in his soft mouth. He did not shake it. He arched his neck and carefully removed the chicken from the courtyard. Then he kept going up the lane as I repeatedly requested that he “drop it.”

Finally, about twenty yards up the lane, Gus stopped and I removed the hen from his soft mouth as he cooperated in sort of dropping it. As I took Gus away from where the hen was resting, I believed it was still alive. Gus and I went up to the trash bin, another thirty yards past the resting place and when I looked back I saw a black hen walking on that side of our house. I was relieved.

However, when Gus and I came back, the chicken he carried was still laying down. A second black hen was mourning her now-deceased friend. Another one bit the dust.

Without help from Gus or Miss Sugar, I picked up the hen who will never again go into our courtyard. As I said at the beginning, I have found work as the undertaker.

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