And where where were we? Oh, yeah…me growing more and more attached to Ms Buffy. (I can now call her that, as, with the whole egg-laying thing, I know she’s female. I also have since found out that Buffy is an incredibly common name for Buff Orpingtons. Shocking, I know). By this time, Jeff is back from his travels and the coop has been built in the backyard (really simple construction, looks good), and it’s time to let her sleep outside.
In the meantime, I have ordered her some chicken diapers. Yup. So she can have the freedom to strut around inside the house and poop as she pleases. Hawaiian print, chevron, and polka dot are on their way. Sure, she’s not going to be an inside chicken, but she might want to visit occasionally.
Ready to let her out for her first night in the dark, in the coop, in the cold, by herself, for hours and hours. No kitchen warmth. No gentle petting. Just the icey blackness with but a layer of pine shavings (and a brand new wooden coop) to comfort her as she faces the infinite.
Nope. Nope. Nope. It’s too cold, it’s too dark. Back in the house with you, our mighty found foul. Clearly you couldn’t handle such stressors. This is not being projected by us at all. One more night as a house chicken.