No, I don’t live in the country

The accidental chicken wandered into a sort of urban spandrel…that little space between architectural details that allows room for creativity, art, and whimsey. Our little city lot is placed on its own tiny triangle between two streets and an alley. The chicken *must* have crossed the road to get here, though I do not know why.

But this was clearly a friendly, human-acclimated chicken. This was no random alley chicken. This was somebody’s pet.

And this pet chicken fit into our household at once. I had moved the chicken from the garage where I had initially sheltered her, into a dog kennel in the house, where I let her out intermittently and tried to keep her cage clean. My husband (Jeff) was out of town at the time, but he got chicken updates. I placed ads on the local Facebook neighborhood group, the regional lost pets group, ‘Next Door’ and ‘Everyblock’. I put a sign up in our Little Free Library.  Has anyone lost a chicken?? As Jeff is driving through the Southwest helping out with Team Rubicon, both he and I are trying to figure out how to rehouse the chicken.

But, admittedly, I’m getting more attached. I make it over to Belmont Feed and Seed to buy some chicken food. The guy at the counter looks at a picture of the chicken and says he thinks it’s a ‘Buff Orpington’.  So, she is now named: “Buffy”. You know there’s no going back from there. She’s named, she cuddles, she runs to me when she sees me. Nobody has claimed her from the various places I have posted. This will be my chicken. I will call her Buffy.

Time to buy a coop.

Pocus thinks “Cat? No. Food? Maybe. Dinosaur? Definitely.”

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