Lone chicken was feeling broody. For those of you who aren't intimately familiar with chicken nature, that means she wanted to sit on her eggs. Even if there were no eggs in her nest, she still wanted to sit on them.
Something happens to them and they get all "maternal". Maybe because we are always swiping her eggs? Maybe it is a protest! Like a sit in!
It didn't matter that there was no rooster around to make those eggs be anything but just plain old farm fresh eggs.
Her incredible survival instinct, that had served her well for quite a long time, took a vacation.
When it got dark and she needed to fly into the tree to escape the rowdy, raucous raccoons all she wanted to do was sit on that nest. I went out to discuss the folly of this plan with her.
"Chicky, you are going to need to get away from those nasty raccoons soon. Fly up to your roost!"
She didn't. She should have.
RIP Lone Chicken
We loved you for your beauty and perseverance.
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