So…hen or rooster?

Coop is set up outside, filled with cozy woodshavings, waiting for its new inhabitant. Food and drink at the ready. I look at scads of Buff Orpington pics, and I’m having a heck of a time deciding hen or rooster. The backside is so floofy. There is a moderately sized comb and wattle…bigger than I would have thought on a hen. (Reminder: I know next-to-nothing about chickens.) Haven’t yet heard a clear ‘cock-a-doodle-doo’, but Buffy has been in a bit of a state of shock.

Take fluffy butt (that woulda been a good name) out to the coop for a couple of hours. It was getting colder, though. I was not quite ready to let Buffy sleep out in the back yard in the cold alone in her coop. So, back inside and into her kennel. Happiness suffused the air. Cats sniffed, foods scratched, water bowl tipped, bedding fluffed, lights out.

Morning the next day. Go about regular morning ablutions (dry hair shampoo, cleanish pants, desperate curling iron, coffee, middle-ager meds). Time for chicken check.


What’s that there? Yes! Yes! Yes! Our first egg! It’s a girl! I mean, Buffy’s a girl…well, a hen. Mazel Tov!

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