Our pet hen comes inside in the evening and night. Yeah, a pet chicken in the house, I would have thought it crazy this time last year.
She’s a sassy girl by default, but takes spates of being extra sassy. She’s a little French girl, a marans (that’s the breed), so she’s just plain extra.
Anyway, last night she comes in, in rare form. Just all up in everyone’s business, frisking and chattering all over the place. Just spunky.
As usual, after she makes sure everyone knows she’s there, and the queen of the roost, she hops up on my leg, then over to the arm of the couch, where she’ll typically stay until bedtime, bawking and clucking at the world.
But boy, that was not the case. I would move to get a sip of water out of my cup, and she’d peck at me. I’d pick her up and set her on the floor. She’d stomp around the living room a few times, scolding me for daring to befoul her perfection with my greasy ape paws. And then she’d hop back up. And then peck at me the next time I moved. Back to the floor, where she stomps around like a jilted t-rex, screaming her rage to the winds.
This repeats a few times, and I start blocking her from hopping up.
This, of course, is met with remonstrations of the highest order. BRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAK! The mighty thunder bird (that’s all of six or seven pounds) was not happy.
However, I was not quailed (nor chickened out. Funny how that works, ain’t it?). I refused to play.
Until she changed tactics. She practically batted her eyes at me. Which, in chicken terms is bobbing the head from side to side while preening and prancing, followed up by a sweet trill and little hops.
Of course, this melted my heart, and I risked peckage and helped her up. She then settles down next to me, with her fuzzy little butt right on my arm, and falls asleep while trilling softly. From Godzilla to sleeping beauty in a half hour
And that, folks, is why we have a chicken in the house for part of the day. Pure entertainment and a little bit of love
I love this so much. As someone who had a pet wild starling for a summer who used to sit on top of my car and bellow at us until someone came out and took him for a ride in the car, I understand this chicken.
Pretty good, still sassy.
Our pet hen comes inside in the evening and night. Yeah, a pet chicken in the house, I would have thought it crazy this time last year.
She’s a sassy girl by default, but takes spates of being extra sassy. She’s a little French girl, a marans (that’s the breed), so she’s just plain extra.
Anyway, last night she comes in, in rare form. Just all up in everyone’s business, frisking and chattering all over the place. Just spunky.
As usual, after she makes sure everyone knows she’s there, and the queen of the roost, she hops up on my leg, then over to the arm of the couch, where she’ll typically stay until bedtime, bawking and clucking at the world.
But boy, that was not the case. I would move to get a sip of water out of my cup, and she’d peck at me. I’d pick her up and set her on the floor. She’d stomp around the living room a few times, scolding me for daring to befoul her perfection with my greasy ape paws. And then she’d hop back up. And then peck at me the next time I moved. Back to the floor, where she stomps around like a jilted t-rex, screaming her rage to the winds.
This repeats a few times, and I start blocking her from hopping up.
This, of course, is met with remonstrations of the highest order. BRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAK! The mighty thunder bird (that’s all of six or seven pounds) was not happy.
However, I was not quailed (nor chickened out. Funny how that works, ain’t it?). I refused to play.
Until she changed tactics. She practically batted her eyes at me. Which, in chicken terms is bobbing the head from side to side while preening and prancing, followed up by a sweet trill and little hops.
Of course, this melted my heart, and I risked peckage and helped her up. She then settles down next to me, with her fuzzy little butt right on my arm, and falls asleep while trilling softly. From Godzilla to sleeping beauty in a half hour
And that, folks, is why we have a chicken in the house for part of the day. Pure entertainment and a little bit of love
I love this so much. As someone who had a pet wild starling for a summer who used to sit on top of my car and bellow at us until someone came out and took him for a ride in the car, I understand this chicken.