Have you ever tried to catch a chicken?

I was watching Mike Rowe catching chickens on Dirty Jobs tonight. (Can you believe there are around 30 thousand chickens running loose in Miami on any given day? I know you're thinking what I was thinking: drug dealers, Cuban cigars, sexy bikinis, cheese-y detectives, retirees, latin music... chickens?) Anyways, as he was chasing the chickens it got me to thinking about my sister's hobby farm. In the eighties my sister, Laurie, and her husband had a little hobby farm that they rented north of seven (aka middle of nowhere, Ontario). I am 9 years younger and would visit my sister once a year for a week or two. It gave my grandparents a break from me and, more importantly to me at the time, it gave me a break from my grandparents. So one summer Laurie and her husband had begun a little chicken coop. They had about 16 chickens (I still know this, why? You'll see.) and I would collect the eggs for my sister everyday. Ooo, what fun I thought. No, nononono. Those chickens broke free every day. Every day (sometimes more than once)for the first couple of days I would run around trying to catch those cunning little creatures. They're fast. They bob. They weave. It's unreal. I would think I had them cornered but it was me that was pwned. And, no sooner did I have all of them in the coop, I would do a head count and sure enough there would be at least one missing. My sister said she thought they must have been getting out from a hole at the bottom of the fence, so I checked and checked and checked I could not figure out how those little devils were getting out. Then I saw it. They flew! No one told me they could fly. I was so annoyed. For the rest of my stay Laurie's chickens had the run of the yard. To this day, I think Laurie was in the house giggling her @$$ off and watching me run around like the proverbial headless chicken.