My Fine Feathered Friend

Let me tell you a wonderful story about a chicken I named Ralphie(after the little boy in A Christmas Story. I know chickens are girls. Stop trying to ruin my story). After I finished my very last class at Dixie State college I drove to my sisters house so we could go to lunch and run some errands together. On my way to her house it started to snow. Not heavy and definitely not the kind that sticks, just a a little wispy snow. I pulled up to my sisters house and noticed a little figure moving close to a tree. At first I was pretty certain it was a little orange cat. Not so! It was indeed a chicken! Lost in a STG snowstorm. I told my sister I had something to show her and yanked her out in the snow to show her Ralphie huddled under a bush. Poor Ralphie. My sister tried to beckon Ralphie into her garage to no avail. Not even when she said "Come here, Chicken." She probably thought we were going to put her in my sisters oven.
So, back inside we went to get her ward directory to see if anyone knew who Ralphie belonged to. No one. So I called my friend Patrick who has some experience with these chicken-y situations. And I'm pretty sure he thought I was joking when I said "Hey how do you catch a chicken?" He said we were going to need a towel or a sheet to sneak attack and chicken-nap Ralphie. And then I realized there was no way my sister or I were going to be able to capture Ralphie in a towel. Treats! Of course! I then asked "What do chickens eat?" To which he replied "Is that a real question?" Apparently chickens like fruit and vegetables. I asked if chicken soup was out and he didn't think I was too funny. Then he told me it would be a terrible idea to try to lure Ralphie into the garage with treats because my sister would have chicken feathers and poop all over her garage.
"But what if he dies!" I protested.
"Then he dies. Don't you know how much a chicken costs? About as much as a carton of eggs!" To which I mumbled something about him being heartless. Poor, poor, Ralphie. After his grinchy heart grew three sizes, Patrick agreed to come rescue Ralphie if she was still outside after he got off work. Off we went to run errands, Ralphie huddled under the bush like a little orange rock. When my sister got home there was no Ralphie. No one knows where our little featherball has gone. I hope she's warm.

Post Edit: Patrick said that she probably got eaten by a dog. I said that Ralphie was too smart to get eaten by a dog "she was hiding under a bush for protection! Would you think of that?" He said "If I hid under a bush for protection you'd think I was retarded!" He has a point. But he's not a chicken. Nor does he care for them apparently.