Meet Scrambled... (aka Evil)

It has really been a rough 24 hours in our household.

Remember our dear Deliasaurus?

Well, as much as we believe him to be a girl, we could no longer continue believing it once the sickle feathers and the crowing began.  I became so angry at him for being a rooster that I renamed him Stew.  He is such a sweet, friendly fellow, and I immediately felt the loss.  To be honest, it kind of feels like my chicken broke up with me, and I have been crying on and off since we found out.  I didn't realize quite how attached I was to his fluffy little white chicken butt.

The farm store where we got him allows for you to trade out your chicken if it turns out to be a rooster, so we spent the morning making a mournful trek to the store with our quiet, well-behaved rooster in a box.

The only chicken, besides chicks, available was a molting, mixed-breed hen.  We spent some time before-hand considering starting over again with a couple of new chicks instead, but we didn't want to get another rooster, and we decided that we'll probably get some chicks in the next year or so anyway.  Five chickens seemed like a good number, so we ended up getting a full-grown mystery hen.

With that, I present Scrambled:

When we got home, she was an angry, anxious little thing making the most upset of the chicken-y noises.  We were fairly anxious as well because we weren't sure how well she would assimilate with our two dear Buff Orpingtons.  We let her go in the coop hoping for the best.  She and the other two stepped outside to have a very brief kerfuffle, and then Baby Peep and Willow went running to hide in the corner while Scrambled commenced her dirt bath.

I should mention that at some point in here, I bitterly named the chicken "Evil".  Her attitude and deep black feathers along with my sense of loss over the angelic, white Stew was not a good combination.  Matthew said that I shouldn't judge her since she was stressed out.  However, the nickname has stuck in my mind, partly because I like getting a rise out of Matthew.  Good wife that I am.

Apparently Evil really wanted a long dust bath.  She bathed for a good chunk of time just outside the door of the coop.  A little while later, she finally decided to venture further into the run where the really good dust is.  There she stayed, bathing and letting us know that she wasn't particularly happy with us.  The other Peeposaurs escaped back to the coop to avoid the whole debacle.

After lunch, I noticed that none of the chickens were in the run.  I opened the coop door and looked at them.  They looked at me.  Then they decided that it was a good time to all have a good "bawk bawk bawk bawk bawk BA-GAWK!!!! bawk bawk bawk..."  I closed the door and let them have at it.  I know that they're having a tough day, too.

Willow and Baby Peep seem a bit confused by the loss of their leader.  Oddly enough, Willow seems to have quickly picked up her role as the older chicken, and she pushes Baby Peep around.  However, more in character, she is horrified by Evil, and she steers clear of her when possible.  Baby Peep is all kinds of laid back, and she is forever apologizing for her existence: "Oh, I'm sorry for being in your way (or eating your food, or...).  I didn't mean to exist.  I used to be an egg, and then suddenly... there I was!"  She doesn't seem to mind Evil, but she definitely likes to stay close to Willow.

This picture shows a bit of the chicken dynamic currently.  Willow is carefully avoiding Evil.  Baby Peep was going to perch on the branch for awhile, but since Willow didn't seem to want to be near Evil, you can see that Baby Peep is just about to hop off the branch to join Willow.

And, next thing you know, Evil is all alone again.

I'm grateful that the chickens seem to be getting through this whole thing without resorting to cannibalism.  I guess that we all just need to get over our losses, make new friends, and move on in life together.

Comforting Baby Peep with some delicious grains.

Evil finally was calm enough to come eat out of my hand instead of yelling at me.

I have to say though, our children will learn a strange expression instead of the normal, "Life is full of little disappointments."  In our house, we will now say, "Life is full of roosters."

May you be a good Peeposaur, Scrambled!  Please be kind to us, as we intend to be kind to you.  Please provide plenty of eggs, and do not hesitate to amuse us with antics.