Chickens in the Jungle

Joan Jett here is on her second walk about on the jungle on the side of our house. Seeing the other girls are on their second day of exploring the wonders of free ranging. We have to wait until the cats are in the house–the chickens are quite big enough to disinterest the cats, who are basically bullies.

The americana’s all have names. Fluffy is still Fluffy because of her lovely Maine. Joan Jett has a shocker black feathers at the top of her head and is quite the troublemaker. I was going to name the last one Goldie because of her feathers, but the Big Guy insisted on Golda, Keeping with the tradition of naming the checks after bad ass females.

They’ll scratch and explore for a while and then, hopefully, wander back to their tractor as I did yesterday for an afternoon nap after all their exercise.

It’s funny to watch chickens when they’re allowed to be chickens. The pecking order isn’t solid. They like to cuddle. Some of them like to those in the sun while others can’t stop preening. we’re trying to walk the fine line between protecting our chickens and keeping them from being chickens.

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