Sassy. The hen in particular. Chickens. The rooster is a giant jerk, but in a good way. The hen is just pure sass

She wants a treat, you get screamed at. Give her treat, you get screamed at for moving too slow. Pet her? Growls. Don’t pet her? Growls. Damn bird can’t make up her mind about anything other than pooping, which she is at least willing to do on a pad when shes inside.

Yes, an inside chicken. It’s my fault.

We got the hen when everyone refused to believe me when I said our rooster was a rooster. He was supposed to be a she, when we got her from the neighbor that was neglecting the birds he had. There was just the one that didn’t find a forever home, and got dropped off at the neighbor’s after a few days of realizing that a chicken just wasn’t for them.

So we took it. I figured that worst case would be it having some food while we found a better home.

A few months later, in telling my family we’ve got a rooster because there were definitely cock-a-doodles of a morning. But nooooooo, it was a hen having sex reversal because it was lonely. It wasn’t, btw. That can happen, but the damn bird was a rooster from the beginning.

Anyway, I figure that no matter what happens, you can’t keep chickens alone, so we get another. This time, we went with a breed you can tell for sure the sex, and from someone that breeds for pets and hand raises.

So, this was in winter, and she was too young to stay outside at night, here in the bosom of the Appalachians. Way too cold. So she came inside around dark.

Wellll, one evening, I’m kicked back on the couch, half dozing. This little peeping ball of feathers hops on pop, climbs into his beard and starts trilling and goes to sleep.

Damn. Now I’ve got a pet chicken in my beard, and I can’t move because she’s so warm and happy there. That’s essentially my life for several months. Bird comes in, says hello by saying “pew-pew” to everyone as she’s carried to the living room. She then chirps and trills and makes a beeline for my beard, and there I sit until proper bed time because I’m a sucker.

So now shes spoiled rotten. And sassy. She’s top hen of the family. She thinks so anyway. While she no longer nestles in my beard (and, being a grown ass man, I did not shed any tears the night she left my beard all cold and empty, not me, no), she does insist in sitting beside me when she’s inside. Either on the arm of the couch where she can scold me whe. I move (and anyone else that moves too) or in her seat on the couch, where she nestles into my leg and naps until bedtime.

Bedtime, btw, is whenever she damn well decides, or that’s what she thinks. When she’s done for the night, off she goes to her crate. But gods forbid if we want to go to bed before then and put her away. Nooooo, no, you evil apes! You will pay for this!

Have you ever heard a chicken growl? It’s both hilariously unscary, but effectively daunting despite that. Her being all of five pounds soaking wet does not prevent her from voicing her disdain.