For I have no pleasure in the death of anyone, declares the Lord God; so turn, and live. - Ezekiel 18:32
So I have this chicken…
So I have this chicken…
My dog is a known lover of chickens. His name is Lucky, but occasionally he turns
into his alter-ego, El Diablo, and kills and eats one of my chickens that has
gotten out. Or my ducks. Or random bunnies. He’s a meat eater by nature. It’s no fault of his own that they are
delicious.
So we keep the dog separate from the chickens at all
possible moments and keep the chickens’ wings trimmed to minimize their flying
over the fence and into enemy territory.
But…
A couple of months ago I noticed we had a regularly out
black hen. Her morning trek takes her
over her own fence, across the backyard, over the dog’s fence and into his pen,
where she looks for a morning snack of june bugs that have drown in his
swimming pool overnight. Several times
we’ve come home to find the chicken and dog in the dog pen. So far, El Diablo has been ignoring the
deliciousness of said chicken.
This morning she was perusing the selection of my garden and
its fallen tomatoes and was selecting her breakfast from bugs under the oak
tree.
Our chicken reminds me of the hen from the children’s book
Rosie’s Walk. Our dog is the fox. In the book Rosie takes quite a perilous walk
about the farm with the fox always hiding in the bushes watching the chicken.
Our chicken is brave.
And bold.
And perhaps a little oblivious.
Just like Rosie...
So that shall be her name.
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