I would love to show you lots of cute pics of Abby, but I don’t have any. She was the shiest of our twelve chicks, and very human-phobic.
Here’s a cool picture of the kids in their “hey, look, I can FLY” stage.
I’d love to tell you that the chick at the front is Abby, but it’s actually Coraline (I could tell back then by her cool white eyeliner). But that is what Abby looked like as a chook.
When the girls moved to coop, and then the run was built, they began to go outside. I had decided, when we got the chicks, that they would NEVER free range. I was terrified of predators. Over the course of time, however, when I saw how much they loved it, and read what a difference it makes to their health and to the quality of the eggs, I relaxed my position.
We used to leave the chickens out until they put themselves to bed at dusk, No fuss, no muss. Then Angelina was killed by a fox. Every since that day, we have been putting the chickens back into their run/coop at 3pm, before the nocturnal predators crawl out of bed. So, I had to learn how to convince the chickens back in, when they most assuredly did not want to go.
This was like herding cats, at first. They could be tempted with treats, but even that was touch and go. And Abby was always the last one out. ALWAYS. What a pain she was. I’m so glad there is no video evidence of me chasing Abby around the yard…
But all that changed when…you got it…when puberty hit. I don’t even need treats to get the girls into the coop now. They follow me like the Pied Piper just because I am their rooster.
But Abby is STILL the last one…
Abby is a fantastic layer of long, light torpedo eggs. I hereby promise to get more photos of her.