When you live in the bush of Africa, you don't live alone. There are the things "exotic"--chameleons, pink transluscent frogs, various snakes, bats, monkey birds, toucans, etc. And then there are the things "not exotic at all"--the chickens, pigs, cows, dogs and cats. Of this last bunch we find the chickens to be the most annoying by far. They wander more freely than even the children and are disturbingly efficient at wiping out newly planted cilantro destined for salsa. The "New Hope" rule on roaming chickens is that they are fair game for anyone who catches them, as they are supposed to be contained at all times. Not being particularly versed in catching and killing chickens, we have yet to get our hands on even one chicken to date. Thus, all the parts for our chicken soup have come from the grocery store in Kampala.
The children are now adept at hearing an approaching chicken and often take chase. Recently they decided they needed to take more decisive action and donned "chicken hunting expedition outfits"--mud boots, backpacks, sticks, and snacks (in case it took awhile.)--see picture--
Unfortunately for them, as soon as they disappeared beyond the neighboring buildings, Geoff and I heard a very plump chicken 10 feet from our house in our front yard. The children, now out of sight had no idea that from the beginning their expedition was ill-fated. But, hey, they had snacks and were "far from home" hunting a ghastly beast . . . that was the real fun!!! When they returned home, they had lots of stories, but no chicken. They'll never know how close they had been because we didn't have the heart to tell them. Oh, well, maybe next time.
