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Blam!
“Oh my holy shitters!” My hand goes to my throat, where my heart is firmly lodged, and I spin back around to the window. There’s nothing there, but when I crank it up, I see a still brown form under it. “Oh shit. Oh my chicken! Hold on. I’m coming!”
I race through the house and hurry outside. Luckily, as I round the corner, the bird is picking itself up and shaking off the fact that it just flew into the window. It is walking around, which I think is a good sign. This one is actually more black than brown, but still with speckled bits like the other. The legs are soft and hairy looking, which I find to be the most adorable thing I’ve ever seen. Who would have thought it?Chickenfeet.
When I reach for the bird, it doesn’t run or flap away. Instead, it leans into me and lets me check its soft feathers. I don’t find any damage, so I muster my courage and scoop the bird up like I’d pick up a cat. Maybe Thaddius does this, or maybe it’s still stunned, but it doesn’t fight me. She lets me carry her into the house and set her down in the kitchen next to the other bird.
I’m not sure what the official policy is on animals in the house, but Thaddius didn’t seem too disturbed yesterday morning when one of the chickens flew in.
“Do you want some water?” I try and push the plate close to the window smacker, but she doesn’t want to drink.
A sudden gust of wind whips past the open window, howling eerily.
It startles me enough that I straighten up and go and stick my head out the window again.
A second gust tugs at my hair, whipping it in every direction. I claw at the strands, trying to get it loose so I can see, but I don’t think to stick my head back inside. Instead, I foolishly keep it out there in the wind.
“Nina!” I hear my name shouted from a distance. I claw at my hair a little more frantically. It’s a losing battle, but finally, I just turn my head at a funny angle, go with the wind, and grab as much hair as I can to hold it out of my vision.
“Thaddius?” I blink as a strand of hair whips me in the eyes, stinging and making them water.
When the ever-loving hell did it get so windy? I was just outside, and there were no gusts of wind.
There’s Thaddius, a black speck in one of the distant fields. His legs are pumping as he sprints toward the barn. “It’s going to storm!” he yells at the top of his lungs. It’s more like a whisper by the time it gets to me, seeing as how the wind snatches his words away, but I can tell he’s yelling.
I can also see how pale he is. By storm, he means something bad is coming.
The color of the clouds and the gusty wind suddenly make a whole lot of sense. On crazy hot days, bad weather can be a thing. I’ve only ever experienced it from the relative safety of the city, but out here, we’re in the middle of nowhere, basically unprotected by buffers and stops.
I lean on the sill and shout into the wind, “What can I do?”
“I need help getting the animals into the barn! Can you do that?”
I have no idea if I can. No. No, I can do this. I’m no farmer, but I can help Thaddius.
I rush away from the window and slam it shut. “I totally get what you guys are doing,” I tell the chickens. “You knew there was a storm brewing, and you wanted to take cover. Well, I’ve got you. I won’t make you go back outside. You can stay in here where it’s safe.” I can only hope that’s true. The safe part.
I find a rubber band in the office and use it as a hair tie to keep my hair out of my face. A skirt isn’t the most practical thing in high winds, but I don’t have time to throw something else on. There was a raw urgency in Thaddius’ voice, and I don’t think he’s the kind of person who likes to ask for help, which must mean he trulyneedsit.
I have to fight to get the door open against the wind. The second I manage to wrench it open, something hard and feathery smacks straight into me.
“Oomph!” I throw my arms out on instinct and also on reflex as I curl back into the house. The door misses slamming me by an inch, but the chicken that just flew right into my arms is safe, so I let the bird go and bravely open the door again.
This time, nothing bangs into me. I let the wind swing it shut, but I make sure all my appendages are out of the way. It’s hard to race across the yard when the wind wants to blow me over.
I now get why the big barn door on the one side where Thaddius is standing, trying to herd the sheep inside, is a sliding door. If it weren’t, I guess it would be hell to try and open something that big and heavy, but this way, the wind can’t really take it either. It’s protected by the barn’s wall.
Thaddius is calm and rugged. His hair is all over the place, a whirlwind in the gusts, and his T-shirt is plastered against his muscular frame. He’s sweating even in this wind, but he’s the one doing all the work. He just raced across the fields at full speed, and now he’s trying to tuck animals inside while they’re panicking. The sheep keep escaping, bleating, and baaing piteously, unsure where to go.
I don’t think I’m going to be effective outside, so I step into the barn. As the window screams around the structure, rattling the wooden boards and grating against the metal roof, I wrangle the first sheep I can find. I have no idea who belongs in which pens, so I just steer the poor thing into the first enclosure and get the door shut.
“That’s it!” Thaddius encourages. I don’t think it matters where they go at this point as long as they’re inside and safe.
We work together, with Thaddius encouraging and herding the sheep inside and me taking them to their enclosures. It’s a miracle that, once they’re inside, they don’t rush back out when I have to open the door to get more than one into one pen because there aren’t enough pens for everyone to have their own, but maybe they know this is the safest place for them.
Again, I can only hope like hell about the safe part of that.
I go back again and again. Maybe it’s natural instinct kicking in for the sheep. I think they like to stick together in a herd, so they want to join the ones already inside. I keep going at it, expecting to have more. I step back to the barn’s entrance one more time, not really even looking where I’m going or what I’m doing. I just hold my arms out for another hurtling blur of wool to careen against me so I can usher them to their pen.
