First thing I did this morning was check on the
injured hen. She looks great. When I went out to feed the "farm" creatures, a bank employee was at her car near the fence and said, "Hey Lady, there is a chicken over here in the bushes." She had heard me talking to the girls, Dottie Belle and Gypsy. I quickly ran through the gate and around to the bank's parking lot against my back fence. But hen #3, from henceforth to be called Olive, to encourage her to lay olive colored eggs, would not let me catch her. So I rushed back to the garage, used as a barn, to get the net, a cage, and most importantly Mr. Bailey; who was mowing my yard. As we turned the corner to the parking lot, there stood Olive between the bushes and the cars. But of course she quickly ran for the bushes, but not before I took a couple of swipes at her with the net. Mr. Bailey decided I was rather ineffective with the net, so he took it. We placed the cage a one end of the bushes and using the net, he ran Olive into the cage, where I effectively closed the door. So the 3 little hens had a happy reunion. I have decided to celebrate this triumph by naming the 3 little hens. So as of tonight I have the run-away one that is black and red named Olive. I still need to name the 2 smaller black hens. I may involve the grandsons, but they like male names that invoke violent thoughts, so I may need to stay in control with that. I am open to suggestions.
| Taken today. They stayed in the coop today. |