When I let the girls out this morning, it was really pouring, and because of that, I didn’t expect them to venture very far from the coop, let alone all the way up to the house. So….I left the side door open, and as I worked away at my computer, I happened to glance up just in time to see that our perimeter had been compromised. On Chance’s watch. He didn’t even bat an eyelash as a very drenched Millie strolled right on inside, passed him, through the dining room, through the kitchen, and to my computer nook. Usually, the No House Chickens rule is in full effect, but this bird was on a mission. I had to see what she was about. Clucking with her special brand of chicken self-importance, she marched dutifully up to me where I was hunkered over the space heater that I have running under my desk.
After assessing the situation for a moment, and realizing that I wasn’t immediately tossing her out as per usual, she went right on up to said heater. Oh, the joy of a wet chicken standing in front of a heater (as was also illustrated after the infamous Gertie Bathing Incident).
After witnessing a couple of minutes of preening and fluffing and other such poultry shenanigans, I finally opened the french door next to my desk, and with one last indulgent fluff of her feathers, she went right on back outside into the rain without a single cross word from either of us.
Right back into the rain and the mud with her cohorts. The No House Chickens Rule went immediately back into full effect.