I get frustrated with animals sometimes. It’s easy enough to do. I spent all day reinstalling the door to my barn and building a new one so that the chickens wouldn’t sleep in there and in so doing, poop all over my shop. They found a way in. After a long, tiring day of building three doors entirely out of scrap, I was not happy with these chickens. I chased them out yelling and I had to grab one or two of them and it was rougher than I liked. I hit a few with a broom handle, and got them finally back into the coop except for one. 
To hell with that chicken, I thought. They can bloody well stay outside if they want to so badly. 
Then I realized they had fled into the woods, as the sun was going down, and the snow was starting to fall. 
I was drinking a beer and thinking of this chicken, thinking of the cruelty I had heaped upon it and her sisters and I felt down low, real bad. 

So I went back out planning to search the forest for her, because if she got eaten, that’d be real shit of me. Luckily, she had found her way back into the barn (punk-ass-chicken). I climbed a ladder in the teetering dark with a flash light in my mouth and she, scared as hell, jumped directly into my face, nearly knocking me from the ladder and to certain death. 

I held her happy, and put her in the coop with her friends.

We’re going to try keeping them in there for a few days, bringing them food and water and whatever else they might need. Maybe then they’ll remember that it’s home, and that it’s safe.