Dirty Job, Saving a life.

This morning's plan got started a bit late. I was cranky because there was a mouse in our crawlspace that woke me up at three am, and then continued to do so, until sunup. Mostly with the question "Do I get up and kill it by setting the trap? Then hear the trap snap, ew, and have to empty it of the dead mouse." It was less existential "do I have the right to take a life", (I was pretty cranky) and more the ick factor of dead mouse in the night.
So, after morning barn chores I treated myself to two cups of tea and a bunch of googling about moles and grubs. We have abundance of both and trying to decide what course of action to take. Currently favoring the idea that if we have a lot of both, eventually the one will polish off the other and tunnel elsewhere. Unfortunately, this could mean several years of walking around on ground that is much like a giant sponge, and too treacherous to ride the horses.
By mid-morning, I'd stalled enough, and headed to the main task of the day. I had purchased a new leaf blower and wanted to give it a go. At Cowfeathers we do not need a leaf blower for leaves. We have a mighty wind that does all our raking for us. I bought the leaf blower for cleaning.
Indeed, I do clean my house with a shop vac, but the leaf blower is handy for cleaning the barn. The last one went motor-up some years back, so the cobwebbing  has been done mostly by broom- inadequately for sure. In fact, the last leaf blower was used really only in the loft and mow area prior to our big barn parties, and never down below in the animal areas. So today was it's maiden attempt. I began by getting on coveralls, hat, gloves, respirator and full mask- the kind that is tight as a drum, hurts your face and leaves marks for hours.
I began in the chicken house. Ushered all the birds outside, opened the big door and fired 'er up! Whew! Cobwebs, dirt, straw, poop blown away.
I moved on to the barn, thru the cat area and the goat pens, by this time I can't see much, too much condensation inside my goggles and dust coating the outside. But with all the dirt and cobweb blobs raining down on my head, shoulders and down my back it has to be getting cleaner.

After photo. Covered in yuck, mask marks for sure!

Most of the worst bits are on the beautiful beams above, so even though I specifically purchased the lightest of the powerful machines, I can feel the strain in my shoulders from holding the machine above my head.
When I make it into the main part of the barn, I have an ambitious moment and head to the old sheep stall. This is a large concrete area where we used to house some of our sheep, and was previously the milking barn, with old stanchions. When I milked our sheep these old wooden stanchions came in handy. The sheep left in 2015. The area has been unused since then, still harboring an old steel gate to contain the ram, dried marbles of sheep poop and stacks of buckets that my wonderful father in law washed out when he was here last year.
I was blowing all this detritus out of the stall in a most lazy fashion, leaving everything mostly where it lay, except for the dirt. But laziness sometimes make things more difficult. So, I turned off the blower for a second to try and stack the buckets in the same region, a bit out of the way.
I turned over a blue one and let out a yelp as something jumped out from under the bucket!
A chicken. NO fooling. A chicken. Under a bucket. In the sheep stall I haven't walked into in about a year.
She recovered a split second before me and stalked off, me in pursuit. She looked mysteriously wet, but not dead, which is a miracle. She is one of our Speckled Sussex and has never been one for being handled. Chicken breeds, like dog breeds or horse breeds, have tendency. And the Sussex girls have always been independent adventurers. Willing to walk off, alone, to the creek or back to the apple trees. Hawk bait.  I had decided to not get attached, even though they are most pretty birds.
I got her fresh water (having dumped all the buckets when I was blowing dirt around at 160 mph) and poured her corn and layer ration. She enthusiastically went to work on the food.

I eventually headed back to my dirty task marveling at the God moments that led me to try out the new leaf blower, decide to tackle the sheep stall, and move that bucket. Poor kid would've never made it, as they are silent in the dark, and she hadn't made a peep.
Still a mystery as to how she got under there. I had another chicken get under a bucket years ago, and she, too was found alive and kicking. But that was in the chicken house, in a high traffic area. I still think she was there for more than a day.
A few years ago I stopped counting the chickens every night before finishing chores. For one, not sure I can still count that high, and for two, if I was short a bird, I went on a hunt for an animal that hunkers down when it's dark and doesn't come when it is called (mostly).  I'd be stressed out and wondering which bird was missing. We rarely lose a bird to anything but old age, so I gave up that stress of counting and occasional searching. The bird was nearly always back in the morning, no worse for wear.  Would not have been so with this little chicken.

Thanks for this save, God!