That chicken, Charlie!
I think we’re heading toward trouble with Charlie, more specifically, I think *I”m* heading toward trouble.
I’m having a little difficulty even thinking about letting Charlie join the flock (and remember, I’m the one who holds Chicken workshops and who counsels everyone to let nature take it’s place when putting chickens together and the pecking starts.) This weekend, we introduced Charlie to the outside birds and she was pecked so horribly that I had to rescue her and bring a trembling little bird back into the house.
Now when I open the backdoor, Charlie runs as far away as possible.
As Charlie gets bigger, she gets bolder. No longer content to stay captive in our den, (for the longest time, she wouldn’t step outside of the room, leary of the terracotta tiles in our foyer) she now roams the entire first level of our house (older house, with wood floors.) It’s not unusual to see her scampering around the kitchen or living room, wood doesn’t allow much traction and her method of stopping forward motion is usually just to skid to a stop.
She’s also getting more socialized with the kids, I’m constantly hearing things like “Move over Charlie, I want to sit down” or “That’s a good girl, Charlie.”
Yesterday, as I was walking through the living room, I saw Charlie and Pippin sleeping together. Charlie had her neck stretched across Pippin’s back. Those two are buddies who play together and once she discovered it, now also drink out of the same water bowl. (which makes life for a house chicken much easier because she is so big that she tended to tip over the chick sized waterer.)
Pippin sleeping with Charlie
It’s a good thing having a chicken in the house, I tell Marc. The fact that she’s so close to Pippin means that she’ll be eating all ticks he brings in. Heck, she might even finally get on top of our annual black ant invasions.
Marc just kind of shakes his head and walks away (although I did catch him the other night watching a movie on the Kindle with a chicken on his knee.)
Pippin is our watch-dog for when people approach the house but Charlie is quickly becoming our watch-chicken inside the house. I can always tell when the kids are on the first floor by Charlie’s little chirrings. She’s a child locater of the best kind. She’s a doll, a treat, but when you come down to it, she is a chicken.
Charlie perching near me while I read.
In a world filled with far too much sadness, sickness, tight budgets, and umbrella-wielding gunman, what’s wrong with taking in a little bird and protecting her from those big, bad bullies out in the world? I see nothing but goodness at the idea of having a chicken in the house.
Marc, on the other hand, begs to differ. And this is where the trouble lies.