The Chicken on My Counter

So we've talked here about our 33 chickens, but in reality when it comes down to dispatching of the mob, we're likely only going to be putting 32 into our freezer.  As I mentioned a few weeks ago, one of our little darlings had an injured leg which meant she wasn't getting around the nursery area well and wasn't getting her fair share of the vittles.  Compared to the rest of the mob, this chick was easily only a third of the size which led to her often being trampled in the race to the feeding trough or getting sat on when one of her larger cousins didn't see her.  Last week we thought she was getting better ~ at least she was more mobile and seemed to be holding her own against her larger compatriots.  But about the time we thought that, she took a turn for the worse, necessitating the making of a hard decision:  let nature take it's course or try to nurse the little peeper back to health.  Being the soft-hearted chicken farmers that we are, she ended up in a box on our kitchen counter.  On the plus side, after several days of convalescing, she's getting better and is starting to be more mobile.  On the negative (or maybe positive, depending on how you look at it), she's becoming more like a pet than a future dinner. 

She's the chattiest of all the chickens, peeping madly if she hears or sees anyone in the room.  At this moment she's sitting in the corner of the box closest to me, peeking over the edge and LOUDLY peeping in an effort to get my attention (or maybe just critiquing my work).  Being as general wisdom states not to name your food, I've held out thus far against the offspring's campaign to bestow a handle on her, but I'm guessing this is a futile effort and she'll still be spared from her execution date, name or not.  Being as we don't have any laying hens, maybe she'll get a new home with the neighbor's flock and will contribute to the neighborhood egg supply.  Only time will tell.