ATTACK

There is no other way to begin this post... I was attacked by a chicken.

Go ahead. Laugh.

If it was you, you would NOT be laughing. In all honesty, I can laugh now but at the time of the attack... I was screaming like a baby. Seriously. Imagine that... me screaming, saying cuss words, and doing karate moves.

Let me set the scene for you.

I rode over to my BFF's house. She has a pond and a little green shed. Perfect backdrops for the pictures I was taking.

Caroline fell asleep on the way so when we got there I told Emma to sit tight and I would be right back. I hopped out of the car to survey the little green shed.

That's when I saw it. Chickenzilla. This is the monster of chickens. I'm talking if I killed it, we could throw it on the grill and feed a small army.

Anyway, the chicken was obviously not happy that I was there. It began to run towards me.

"Don't run Hailey. DO NOT RUN!" I thought to myself. "The chicken will chase you and it will be all over then."

I politely asked the chicken if I could go back to my car. No such luck. Reasoning with a chicken is like reasoning with a 2 year old... it doesn't happen.

"WTF am I going to do? I have got to get back to my car before Bug starts freaking out."

5 minutes pass. The chicken is making that loud chicken noise and spreading its wings.

I said lots of cuss words and slowly turned to walk away. The chicken followed... as did more cuss words.

I finally made it to Arrin's moms house in hopes to find her brother (they are his stupid chickens anyway). Nope. He wasn't home.

I tried to get the dog to follow me and protect me. Nope. The dog was smarter than that. He knew that the stupid chicken would attack him instead. So, I grabbed a random shoe that was on the porch as my backup.

Now, it was just me and my weapon (a shoe) against a monster chicken.

I slowly began to make my way back to my car. I made a big circle around the backyard. The chicken followed my every move... spreading his wings and neck feathers and such all along the way. Stupid chicken.

He cornered me next to a small tree. He spread his wings and began flying towards me.

What was I suppose to do?

I kicked it. I kicked the chicken. It was more of me just putting my boot out and the chicken flying into it rather than an actual kick. (Yes, PETA people. I semi-harmed a chicken. If you don't understand, you must have never been attacked by a monster chicken. Come to La Grange. I'll show you one.)

After the "kick", I threw the shoe at it and ran. I ran as fast as my little legs and sweet cowboy boots would take me.

I made it to my car in one piece. As I sat there breathless with the sound of an angry chicken in the background, I said a little prayer thanking God for letting me get away. I also think it is pretty sweet that I have broken in my cowboy boots a little more because a chicken flew into them.

I drove away from the scene with an extreme fear of chickens but a sweet pair of roughed up cowboy boots. I'll call that even.



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Here is a picture of the chickens. The one closest to my side mirror is the attacker...


I look forward to the day I get to eat you Chickenzilla. My husband has big plans to cook your up nice and crispy just for me. Peace out!