Mrs. B pretends to not care, but surprisingly just happens to be in the right place at the right time to nudge the odd wayward chicken into the door. She is also much more determined than Mr. B when it comes to getting a chicken out of the thick brush. When Mr. B gives up on a chicken lost in the brush, I implore for Mrs. B's help. She plods into the brush and a minute later out shoots a chicken.
No one who has known Mr. B or Mrs. B all these years, would have ever suspected they had a secret talent for herding chickens. Hurting chickens, Sure! But herding? No way.