Hey guys!
I know that I was just on here a few weeks ago, but I've been plagued by chicken incidences over the past few weeks that just must be shared...
Firstly, if you haven't heard... Cayman is overrun with wild chickens. It always surprises me when a new visitor arrives and begins taking pictures of the chickens outside the airport like they've just discovered Brad Pitt on Hollywood Boulevard. The chickens go to the supermarket. The chickens go to the beach. The chickens even eat the chicken scraps outside of KFC! Chickens! Chickens! Everywhere Chickens! (I see a future Dr. Seuss-type book in my future).
The origin of the mass chicken invasion is not for certain, but I have heard that when hurricane Ivan devastated the island in 2004, all penned chickens escaped and just carried on producing their own large colony? I'm not sure, but that sounds like a reasonable explanation.
For the most part, we just ignore the chickens. Some people feed them. I've seen areas alongside the road where tens of chickens sit waiting in the morning for an unsuspecting vehicle to make a seed drop off. In the schools, we mostly spend our time addressing the chickens like this: "Insert child's name here, stop chasing the chickens!"
I don't think many people use the chickens for food, as they are basically garbage disposals, but I do know of people who capture them, pen them, feed them, and create a little chicken farm in their yard. As far as predators go, other than dogs (who definitely will eat the chickens - foreshadowing!!!!), the chickens are quite high up on the Cayman food chain. I've even seen stray cats live harmoniously with the chickens! It is quite a unique experience living amongst chickens.
Sometimes, however, the chickens cause issues...
Take for example, a beautiful Monday afternoon. It was about 2:45 in the afternoon and school was winding down for the day. I could see the students heading out to the bus stop, which is located directly in front of my therapy door. I made the monumental error that one should never ever make when working in a school or hospital setting. I thought to myself, "Well that was a reasonably smooth day." Ugh. That's the equivalent of shouting "shutout!" at the goalie with a minute left in 1-0 hockey game. Fatal error.
Suddenly I heard a loud "THUMP" against my classroom door. Followed by another "THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!"
Then the screaming began.
Kids scream all the time. You develop a special sense to determine if the scream is a "This is me flirting with a boy" or "I just saw a frog" or "Call the police... this is assault" type scream. This was definitely the latter.
So...against all common sense I opened my classroom door.
To my horror, a stray dog was swinging a rooster around by it's neck directly against my classroom door.
"Miss! Do something!" cried the children - some of who were sobbing with terror.
I erratically waved my arms around and yelled something unintelligible until the dog dropped the rooster over a short fence into a grassy area and ran away.
"Miss...is it dead?" asked the children.
I looked over at the rooster, and horrified to see that it was still breathing, I very calmly stated, "No. He's just sleeping."
I went to go find someone who could put the poor rooster out of it's misery, but in the Caribbean, it's a dog eat chicken world. Sympathy for a dying rooster is zip, zilch, zero, so I had no takers to um...help the rooster cross the rainbow bridge.
But...when I returned to the scene of the crime, other than blood and feathers on my classroom door, the rooster had disappeared! To this day, I imagine that he stood up proudly, shook off the concussion, and clucked his way back to his family on the farm. One can dream.
Fast forward to a few weeks later...
I was out East providing speech therapy to one of my schools. During one of my sessions, my young student uttered "uh oh" during our story reading ("Uh Oh" is generally bad. bad bad). I looked down and observed wetness spreading down his pants. I'm no rookie, and could see that we were in the middle of a pants peeing emergency, so I quickly led the little boy down the hall to the bathroom. Usually the student will determine that he/she is peeing and then attempt to hold it until they reach the washroom. This little boy, however, was past the point of no return, and the pee was now puddling at his feet (and my own) as we rimped to the bathroom (rimping is run/limping, which is the only fast movement I'm currently capable of).
I quickly got the student into the stall of the boys washroom and looked down at my feet. They were covered in pee. I grabbed some paper towels and cleaning supplies and attempted to minimize the damage. I could hear my little bud hitting the bathroom stall door with his hands.
"Are you ok in there?" I asked.
No response....as the hitting became louder.
I soon realized that he was unable to open the latch to get out of the stall, and he was so upset that he couldn't communicate this to me.
I decided to go in.
I got down on my belly (wearing a cute little work dress) and army crawled under the bathroom stall in the boys bathroom. It did occur to me that I had hit a new low, both figuratively and literally, but I also knew that I had a Ritz staycation to look forward to in a mere 48 hours, so as I crawled through the icky boys bathroom germs, I imagined the bliss of sipping bubbles on my Ritz balcony at sunset. I could do this. I could do this.
I managed to get my little friend out of the stall, clean up the unfortunate accident in the pants, and carry on.
At this point it was noon. I had pee on my shoes. I had boys bathroom germs all over my dress. I looked a hot mess. I considered calling it and heading home. But I only had 3 more students to see at a school 20 minutes away, so I decided to suck it up and finish the day. It couldn't get worse...right? Haha...famous last words.
Other than reeking of urine, my afternoon carried on without incident...until I heard the chickens.
The chirp chirp chirping of tiny baby chicks was deafening as I walked my students back to class, that I just had to turn the corner and investigate the source of the cacophony. Again...another fatal decision.
In a culvert, about a foot deep was an entire chicken family - mama hen and her 8 baby chicks. It was apparent that the culvert was too deep for the chicks to jump out of, and mama refused to leave them, so the family clucked around urgently - they were trapped.
Shit.
I tried to walk away. I went back to my office and attempted to do some paperwork, but I could still hear the urgent squawking of the trapped chicken family. I couldn't, in good conscience, just let this family starve to death. This was surely the culvert of death if no one intervened. I messaged a few friends with chicken wrangling experience and they suggested that I carry the chicks out.
I knew that mama would be upset, so I tried to communicate with her that I was there to help. In my shrill nervous voice, I assured her, "I'm just here to help your family. I won't hurt anyone!"
As soon as I picked up the first baby chick, Mama hen jumped in the air, shoulder height, and began flapping her wings in my face. Yep...I definitely saw that coming. I managed to drop the chick out of the culvert, safely on the grass, and the chick immediately turned around and jumped back into the culvert of death. Lord Jesus, I'm not the praying type but please...I smell like pee, I have chicken feathers in my hair...please just let me save these damn chickens.
Just then a classroom window opened up.
"Girrrrrl. What are you doing?" implored the Teacher in her Jamaican accent, as the entire class watched in disbelief behind her.
"I'm trying to save this chicken family!" I shouted, now covered in sweat, piss, and chicken feathers.
The Teacher shook her head, bewildered with my actions, and closed the window.
I continued, unsuccessfully, placing chicks outside the culvert, only to watch them jump back. "No! No! No!" I yelled, completely frustrated with my lack of progress and the blatant defiance of the chicks.
Suddenly a superhero, in the form of a year 6 student, appeared to save the day.
This boy was a true chicken wrangler!
"Miss, we have to get the hen out so when we place the chicks on the grass, they will go towards mom. Once our hands touch the babies, the mom can no longer smell them, so we have to put them where mom can hear them."
This kid knew his chickens!
In a few minutes, this incredible student helped me reign mama hen over in the grass. In addition, the lovely reception Teacher and a few of her students came out to assist with the chicken rescue as well! Hallelujah! We saved the chicken family!
You know....I realize that sympathy for chickens in the Caribbean culture is well...low...but this student demonstrated kindness, empathy, and his problem solving skills. I intend to gift him with some type of chicken saving medal!
Now I have a hard and fast rule here in Cayman...I do not drink alcohol on school nights - weekends and holidays only (thank God for frequent school holidays!) However, as soon as I walked in the door, around 5pm that evening, reeking of piss, covered in boy bathroom germs, with greasy feathers in my hair, I tracked directly to my fridge, and tightly seized a bottle of wine. It was all I could do to rip open that cork off with my bare teeth! Evan observed my state of unruliness and without question, immediately handed me my favourite "bad day" wine glass which bears a nautical symbol and the words "Ship Happens."
That day wasn't egg-zactly what I had hoped for, and I do suspect fowl play, but as I sipped my wine and took in a chick flick, I realized that it would provide egg-citing material for an egg-cellent blog.
OK OK. I'm done!
