Since Grilled chicken started laying eggs, she is nicer. We appreciate her more. She’s not docile, but she lets you pet her without pecking your fingers. We still don’t pick her up, but I’m not afraid of her anymore. Poor thing, maybe her name made our perception of her all wrong.
Hmmm, no, she really was mean! And I’m still a little scared.
You can see from this photo that she is not to be messed with.
Anyway, in honor of her transformation, we decided she deserved a better name. (Sorry, David, she isn’t a rooster.)
Her new name is Henrietta. What do you think?