The other morning I was pumping gas into my Prius when I saw a
beautiful chicken hanging around the door of the gas station convenience store. She had brown and black feathers with white specks like snow had just lightly fallen on her back. As I looked closer, I saw that this hen had several tiny chicks in the bushes behind her right outside the door of the gas station store. I looked around and thought that this was an unusual (and unsafe) place for her to hatch her clutch as there was nothing around that small square patch of bushes but concrete, cars, and a busy road.
I asked the workers in the store and they said that there were eight chicks when they first hatched, but now there were only seven. As the cold drizzle started to fall, darkening the color of the concrete, the hen puffed out her wings a bit and the babies huddled under her for protection.
I knew I couldn’t leave them there. I started making calls.
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