Paige, our buff orphington hen who unbelievably, inexplicably escaped death a few months ago, has continued to crow, caw, clamor and creeeee from morning to night. She’s always been one of my favorites, named by and after my best friend.
^ last November, one week before Ruby was born ^
Paige witnessed some gnarly shit and, honestly, I don’t blame sister for reevaluating her gender and purpose. After her hen honeys were slain, she stopped laying eggs and starting sleeping in the coop next to Olive, my gray tabby. And then, when some new chicks joined her click, she started announcing to that murderous raccoon that COCKADOODLEDOO YOU CAN’T HAVE ME YOU MEAN TWIT!
^ Paige with her old flock: Ida, Bossy P, Clementine and Lindsay ^
Thing is we are in city limits and roosters are a big fat no no. It was giving me so much anxiety. Every time she sang I cringed, imagining all of my neighbors cursing me and my god forsaken hen. I had taken to desperate acts like racing toward the coop, arms overhead sternly, quietly scolding her, Paige. No. More. Crowing. And, sassy chicken just stared at me and ARRRARARRRRROOOREEOORROO! right to my face. Over breakfast in the morning, we’d hear her rev up and Margot would say what she had heard me say so many times, Paige, pllllleeeeeeaaaaase stop crowing.
And so what to do with her? There are three options: 1. Find a new home for her. But, seriously, who wants a transgendered chicken? 2. Move to a new home outside of city limits. 3. You know. And I really really had a hard time with that because she is my pet not like my dog and cats are my pets but still. And even if I sucked it up and axed Paige and was all urban homestead badass, I couldn’t eat her. And moving seemed a bit extreme. So, I asked facebook to help me out. And, sure enough a friend suggested a friend and lo, he was into it.
So after a cup of coffee this morning, I set Ruby in the jog stroller, got a cooler out of our garage and entertained the puhjesus out of Margot and the neighbors. I totally see now why Paige escaped the sniper coon. Homegirl is quick and intimidating when she wants to be.
She must have known I wasn’t just coming in for cuddles. And I really wanted it to be as untraumatic as possible. But it eventually turned into a game of tag and all the other hens were on her team, tripping me up every time I went to pick her up. It was totally nuts, y’all.
I had her three times before I finally captured her snug in the Coleman.
Check out how much bigger her comb is in this pic compared to above! Rooster.
She had a little towel bed in there and it was dark which I thought would be comforting. I propped it open, wiped the sweat from my brow and loaded Ruby, Margot, Paige and me in the car. I didn’t turn the radio on, hands at 10 and 2, the sun was just screaming up over Mount Sentinel. Margot asked, mama, where’s Paige? I would reply, right behind you, bug. And then she’d think for a minute and say, mama, where’s Paige? over and over. I told her a felt a bit sad and she said, yeah.
^ new digs and new hen pals ^
But her new home is stellar. She has a roomy coop, six lots to roam and a view of Mount Jumbo. Shane will take eggscelent care of her (couldn’t resist). Margot felt good about it so I decided I would to. So now our original flock has moved on and we turn to Peanut, Maude, 16 Months and Violet to tell the next chapters of our chicken story.
^ Paige on her farewell romp this morning ^
