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Miss Patchouli

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Miss Patchouli, house hen!

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My ever constant companion!

It was love at first sight. She was no more than dry, when she took wobble steps. This tiny little Americauna chick, boldly deciding that I was hers! Fluffy cheeks, tiny wings, cute patterns of buff and black, bright eyes, my little darling! She became my pocket chick, wherever I went, so did she.

She wasn’t a chicken as far as she was concerned, but a little feathered person. She would peep her head off, with a voice incredibly loud for something so small, demanding to be picked up, not left with her hatchmates!

She would happily trill and purr, content, in my hand, in my pocket, sitting on my shoulder, nibbling on my ear! One night I dozed off, on the couch, only to awake to her grumpy chitter, as she snuggled under my chin! She had managed to get out of the brooder box, in the kitchen, make her way into the living room, climb up the blanket, and chew me out for leaving her with others. She wouldn’t take no, for an answer. So she got a little basket, all her own, and there she slept, next to me on the couch, or on the bed, content! 

I thought once she matured she would stop being so close. that has not been the case! She has continued to be my little girl! If the roosters chase her too much, she comes running to me, flys up on my shoulder, and there she stays, roosters, circling, just waiting for her to jump down!

All winter, she insisted on being inside, she stayed in a dog kennel crate at night. Every day, she laid me a beautiful mint green, large egg, fussing in the dog kennel, till she was comfortable, and with a little squeak, out popped the egg. Then she would talk to it, chuckle, purr and cuddle it under her. After a few minutes, she would be done with it, stepping out of the crate,  would stretch, standing tall, and crow! Not a full crow, but a crow nonetheless! Not fertile because she hadn’t been with a rooster, the egg was used as eggs are. I have a collection of her eggs, blown for decorations.


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