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Things seem to be getting better in the henyard. I haven't been able to babysit all week, but last night everyone went to bed without my help. Today, they're actually sharing space in the yard and hanging out under the rosebush together. (That was always Chickpea's and Porkchop's place. I'm so glad she's sharing it. For a while, she'd chase them out of there.)
I gave them some leftover pasta, which they loved. Spaghetti, in chicken language, basically translates into "OMG BIGGEST TASTIEST WORM EVAR!!"
White chicken is still at the bottom of the pecking order, but I think she's figuring out ways around it. While cinnamon chicken and Chickpea ate happily, white chicken noticed that I'd left the bowl of pasta sitting on the arm of the chair. (Winston, my big cat, was looking on with feigned disinterest. He was pissed because he wanted some pasta too.)
Here's what she looked like, strutting back to the yard after her angel hair coup. Yes, you're seeing it right. That's smugness. She was extremely proud of herself.
They still need names. I still want to call the white one Cracker. I don't know why it's important to me to name them after foodstuffs, but it's a trend that I seem to want to continue.
"Cinnamon" is the obvious choice for the cinnamon one, except that it seems too precious, somehow. Another stumbling block is that she's very Porkchop-esque -- gung ho, and a little bit dippy.
I once worked for a university research department where the 4 resident pigeons were named Frito, Dorito, Cheeto, and Frisbee (I have no idea why they named #4 Frisbee and not Pringles or something).
If they are allowed, it will be a chicken girlzone. Is that common?
Yeah, roosters are almost universally banned within city limits. The 4 a.m. wakeup calls are more than most neighbors are willing to put up with. Plus -- and I don't mean to offend any of the XYs among us -- they're totally unnecessary in a backyard flock.