With thanks to Tenacious D.In all the efforts to re-secure the tarp on the hutch I hadn't properly closed the side hatch and as such one of the Polish Scruffs escaped. It was a hell of a thing to corner—it can't fly but it can flap and gain about three feet and it flapped / ran into the weird water heater room at the back of the house that contains assorted gardening crap. I had to pull the mower out to try to get to the chick and as I did so I screamed at it "I AM A MIDDLE-AGED MAN!"It wasn't so much a question so much as a statement and a statement with a clear ellipses of "I cannot deal with this shit". But I did catch it, trying not to hurt it, but it flapped in terror until I got it back into the hutch. I secured the side hatch. I believe that's the only time to date I have yelled my age category at a bird in defiance at its antics that my now-aged-and-injured-crap-at-birth-body found a challenge to deal with. I love them to pieces when it's all going well; but fuck me I do get annoyed when they act like nature says when escaped from captivity and you try stay that way. I'm sure, if I had left the hutch door open that the others would have stayed in and the missing one would have eventually joined them at dusk. But I wanted certainty they were locked away and ended up in an unpleasant not funny chase sequence with a fear-crazed bird which involved age-based shouting.Fuck kids getting off my lawn; chicken, get out the fuck out of my water heater room! (waves stick).