I have always thought that animals, like us, have personalities. You see it often in dogs and cats, but it is a little harder to see sometimes in other animals, like chickens. Anyone who has ever raised chickens will attest that chickens always come home to roost. This means that every evening, when the sun is setting, my clucky little ladies march their feathery butts back into the chicken coop to sleep. All but one......
Oh yeah, she looks cute and innocent, but she sort of has a mind of her own. I first realized this when I went to close up the chicken coop one night and saw her sitting on the top of her pen. I got her down and put her in the coop, only to have to do this all over again the next night. Normally I would not have a problem letting her "camp out" on a summer night, but after losing most of my last flock to either foxes or ninja coyotes, I don't want to take any chances.
So for a while after that I did not pay close enough attention to how many chickens were in the coop when I locked up for the night, to be able to tell you if she was there, until two nights ago. I went in like usual, turned on the lights and shut the little chicken door....then I counted one, two, three......eight....no, where is the ninth....ok one, two, three......eight! Wait a minute.... So I ran in and got a flash light, then went to look around the pen to see if she was sitting on top again. Nope, no chicken. So then I started panicking that maybe she had gotten eaten by one of those ninja coyotes, in the daylight, and I didn't notice. Well, heck, what was I going to tell the kids.....
The next morning....there she is, trying to get in the chicken coop.....
So the next night I thought I would be smart and go out there a little earlier, give myself some daylight. Well I got busy cleaning up after dinner, getting kids jammies on, teeth brushed, before I knew it, it was almost pitch black out. I go out to the coop....no chicken.....again with the flashlight....no chicken.....where in the world is she???
So I have made two predictions, one: she hops the fence and parties all night, then comes home in the wee hours of the morning hoping she doesn't get busted. Or two: She climbs way up high into the branches of the tree that hangs over the pen. Although I looked up into the tree with my flashlight, I am not sure I can rule it out.
So last night, I went out there early and made sure her stubborn little butt was safe in her coop and not out all night just begging to be some one's dinner. I guess until I figure out how to set up a chicken cam to record her, we may never know.
