Free Range Chicken

“I’m going to put her in her cage.”  Did I say that?  Because that didn’t happen.  There’s quickly becoming a new meaning to free range chicken around here when it comes to Oreo and me.  The bigger she gets, the more uncomfortable I get handling her.  My garden gloves were driving my nerve for a while, but that’s over.  She’s found her voice now, and every time I go to grab her, she squawks at me loudly.  After 15 minutes of chasing her in circles around Luke and his bone, I left her outside.  An hour later she returned to her coop of her own accord, but when I came within three-feet of her, she hopped right back out.  She’s a little bugger and her squawking is quite unnerving, but at least I’m not Luke.

  1. It might be time for a Super-Chicken-Nanny intervention?

  2. She is becoming quite the bully!

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