That Noah Feeling

I think I now know how Noah felt, taking animals two-by-two onto the ark. It is not an easy task. Yesterday morning, it was warm, clear, and the sun was shining. So I decided to turn out the chickens so they could maintain their "free range" status. I wouldn't want anyone accusing me of selling "caged" chicken eggs. The dogs and I took a little jaunt to Fowler to get some feed for the menagerie and we returned home just in time to unload feed in a raging blizzard. Naturally, the chickens are more intelligent than most of us give them credit for. They and the two ducks had all gathered inside the cat house. Now the cat house was the chicken house when I was growing up, but since that time we have built a new chicken house and allowed the barn cats to reside in the old chicken residence. It's not that complicated, but it sounds like it is. Anyway, the cats and chicks were sharing the cat house yesterday and I figured I'd better get the chickens back to their own digs. So I did what any good chicken herder (?) would do--I tried shooing them out of the cat house. They looked at me like I'd lost my mind. The ducks quacked, the chickens clucked, and they all cocked their heads and just looked at me. That's when my 'Noah' instinct kicked in. I'd just have to take them, two-by-two, to the chicken house. And I guess that's what they expected. The chickens would squat right in front of me, and look up at me as if to say, "Pick me up, let's go." My sons don't like chickens and, at times, I understand why. So I toted the chickens, one pair at a time, over to their own house. The ducks didn't want any part of being carried, so they complained all the way as they waddled across the yard toward their hotel. They don't quite move like the ducks at the Peabody Hotel in Memphis! We completed the move, the poultry was happy, the cats were thrilled to have regained ownership of their place, and I decided that for the next couple of days the chickens would have to chance being labeled as "caged" because they would be held captive in their little house until the 'Great Thaw' occurs.