This is Waddles McGhee
© Laura Quick
She’s a beautifully marked Gold Laced Cochin and a *huge* pain in the ass. All of the other hens come running when I go outside, on the odd chance that I have a treat for them. Not Waddles, no, instead, she’s in the garden lazily spinning circles in a dust bath, far to busy to pay me any mind.
If I want to go somewhere during the day, all I need is a slice of watermelon or a bunch of parsley to get the hens rushing into their pen. All except Waddles - no, she’s found a fascinating oak leaf to peck at on the patio.
Every night, the hens dutifully turn in at dusk and take their proper spots on the roost, but not Waddles. I have to chase her fuzzy butt around the yard after dusk to make sure that she hasn’t chosen a roosting spot that is likely to get her eaten.
Never have I worked so hard to save an animal, from herself. :)