To Catch A Chicken

I made my way through the front room of our house to the kitchen when suddenly I heard a rustling outside the room window.
Wind? I wondered. It has been a very windy and rainy month, but through today it was calm.
I glanced to the window and looked at what could have been causing that racket.
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Screeeeech!"
A bird! It was huge. I saw a blur of it fall below the window sill.
As I looked for a flashlight, Glory made her way to the window, as did our kids.
"It's a chicken!" she said loudly.
A chicken? What in the world..?
Our neighborhood is known for the presence of eagles or hawks, not chickens. This was something I had to see.
I went outside, and sure enough, the reddish-brown chicken was flapping away, tangled in our rhododendron bush by our window. Gently, I reached down for the poor bird, talking in soothing tones as I did. It fluttered away from me, going deeper into the bush.
Glory came out with a flashlight and gloves.
Glory grew up on a farm where she was in charge of the chicken chores. Surely she'd know what to do, I thought. I asked her for her expert opinion.
"Do I grab him by the legs or what?"
"Yeah, you can, but you have to be careful," she replied.
Glory handed me the gloves so as to not get my hands scratched. She manned the flashlight. Cautiously, I pulled away the branches and revealed the quiet cluck, probably scared to death.
As I grabbed it around its body, the chicken seemed to wail or scream, calling for help from anything within a mile...or two.
"SCWRAAAAAAWWWWWWKKKKKKK!!!!!"
I pulled the frightened beast close to me and stroked its little head, telling him/her it was going to be OK. The chicken calmed down.
Then we promptly took him inside.
We were hungry.
No, no, we looked around and figured it was one of our neighbor's chickens we have seen in their yard. Glory and I took the bird to the neighbor and knocked on the door. After the customary greeting, I got down to business.
"Is this your chicken?" I asked.
He seemed befuddled, dumbfounded or something. He stammered out a yes, and asked where we found him. We told Jarod the harrowing story. We all had a little chuckle. Gingerly, Jarod took his chicken to the garage. We shook hands and bid each other goodnight.
Glory and I congratulated ourselves for saving the bird, and we thanked God that we could help that chicken.
For some reason, I felt like crying.

Bill