A stray chicken lounges on the hood of Elizabeth Izzo’s car on Monday. (Enterprise photo — Elizabeth Izzo)

So, why did the chicken cross the road?

This is the setup to a common joke, but it’s also the first thing that came to mind on Monday when Enterprise Staff Writer Lauren Yates and I spotted a chicken on the side of state Route 86 in Ray Brook.

With no newspaper to work on for the next day — the Fourth of July — we were on our way back to Saranac Lake from Essex on Monday, having spent some time enjoying the sunshine, perusing the produce at Essex Farm and the Hub on the Hill and stopping for a late lunch at the freshly-opened River and Rails Market in Whallonsburg.

When we first spotted the chicken, it was walking around in a patch of dirt across the road from “Little Albany” — a complex that houses the headquarters of the Adirondack Park Agency, the New York State Police Troop B barracks and offices for the state Department of Environmental Conservation. I figured the chicken had wandered across the street and down a ways from Tractor Supply. But this was no baby chick — this was a hen. She looked close to fully grown. We turned the car around and pulled over to take a closer look.

The chicken was alone and very friendly. When it spotted us, it ran to us and eyed us curiously.

What does one do when one finds a live chicken on the side of the road?

I briefly considered whether I’d be able to keep it somehow. Yes, I live in an apartment, but maybe this was a sign that it’s time to start my farming journey.

There’s a phrase that’s been circulating on the social media platform TikTok recently — “Cat Distribution System.” It refers to the idea that the universe has a system to pair stray cats with loving owners. Basically, if you’re lucky enough to come across a stray cat, that’s the Cat Distribution System at work. I thought maybe this could be a North Country equivalent –the Chicken Distribution System. Unfortunately, if such a system exists, I think it chose the wrong person this time.

Nonetheless, we wanted to make sure the chicken made it to a safe place. Being journalists, we had a few ideas of who to call and figured we’d ask around.

Though we figured it was a long shot, we started with Troop B’s non-emergency line. They were the closest, right across the street — plus, we figured they could get us in touch with someone to help us out if they couldn’t. State Police transferred us to the DEC, who told us to get in touch with the town of North Elba’s animal control officer.

We fed the chicken some asparagus from Essex Farm and tried the town’s animal control officer. At this point, it was past 7 p.m. We couldn’t get through, but left a message.

We then called Derek Doty, the town supervisor of North Elba. Doty knows lots of folks in Ray Brook, so we thought he may know someone nearby who might’ve lost a chicken.

Doty did, in fact, know someone in Ray Brook with chickens. And that person’s chickens matched the description of the chicken in front of us. Could we have solved the mystery?

Unfortunately, no. After that person went outside and counted their chickens, they found them all accounted for.

I texted my neighbor next, a longtime resident whose husband is a retired Environmental Conservation Officer, to see if she had any ideas. As it so happens, her niece is a dog warden. She reached out to her on our behalf.

Then, as the chicken hopped onto my car and began to roost on my windshield to the soundtrack of Elton John on the car radio, I called my friend Peter Crowley, the Enterprise’s former managing editor. He suggested bringing the chicken to someone in Saranac Lake who owns chickens, or maybe to a nearby farm.

With the sun now close to setting, that seemed like our best bet. But that also meant we had to find a way to get the chicken into my car.

My parents raised chickens at our home in Peru, so I have some experience with wrangling chickens, but it’s been a while since I’ve had to. We called a couple of friends who own chickens and they offered Lauren and I some advice on handling it — they also agreed to house the hen.

Lauren and I spent the next 15 minutes chasing the chicken around before a mother-and-son duo pulled over and jumped out to help us. The mother told us her family owns chickens, and though they live out of town, they just happened to be in Ray Brook that evening because a family member is involved with Can-Am hockey in Lake Placid. Together, the four of us chased the surprisingly agile chicken for another 10 to 15 minutes.

Eventually, we cornered the chicken and it hopped into my car on its own. We drove it to our friend’s home in Bloomingdale, where it enjoyed some feed in the company of other chickens, and we gave it the name “Sylvia.”

One of the best things about living in the North Country is that residents come together to help one another solve problems.

As of my writing this on Tuesday afternoon, I still don’t know where the chicken came from and who it may belong to. But, thanks to friends and neighbors, I now know what to do when I find a chicken on the side of the road.