The history of Honey

Say hello to Honey:

You may remember her as one of the three adult hens who came to live with me in January after a girlfriend of mine couldn't take care of them any more (from left to right: Thumper, Honey, Skippy):

For the first few weeks, these three stuck together like glue:

They were buddies:

Three peas in a pod:

and they seemed to feel most at ease when they were close together:

But then, Thumper and Skippy started venturing out and establishing their place in the flock pecking order. Honey's extremely docile nature, however, seemed to hold her back. She clearly didn't care much for rambunctious and if there's one word that describes my chickens, that would be it.

Her "safe spot" became the roost at the far end of the chicken run and she began spending more and more time here:

This would've been fine, except the only time I would see her get down, would be at night when she would go in to roost.

I wound up hanging a feeder over the roost for her, just so I knew for certain she was eating:

Every morning, I would hold the waterer up to her perch so I could see her drink. It was getting a little ridiculous.

But this is what would happen when she would get down:




and she would retreat back to her overhead perch in the corner:

I was catering to her more and more.
And she was becoming much more friendly with me. She would fly to my arm in the mornings for her breakfast treat:

And jump over to sit on me when I sat in the chicken run:

One morning, I walked into the run to find her bloody on her roost. Part of her ear lobe had been torn away and she had abrasions on both sides of her face and around her eyes:

As I wiped her down, bits of flesh and tissue came away on the paper towel:

I dabbed Blu-Kote, an antiseptic, on the worst parts:

...and told her she had just earned a night at the Critter Farm Hotel:

She seemed unimpressed with her room initially:

And decided she needed to do a bit of exploring:

as well as a walk-about:

...followed by some sight-seeing, before she could finally settle down for the night:

When I let her out the next morning, she seemed recuperated and ready to return to her flock:

And all was well:

and good:

until they all ganged up on her again and, this time, significantly damaged the back of her head and neck. Back to the laundry room first-aid center she went:

She seemed much more at ease the second time around with the whole crate routine and, after another relaxing night's rest in a first-class, luxury space, she was ready to tackle another new day:

What I hadn't counted on, though, was that she had decided at some point in the night that she wasn't going back. To the coop that is.

And she promptly ventured out to begin her new life:

To Be Continued...