I never thought I'd say this about a chicken, but as much as one can love something with a brain the size of a pea, I love Baby Chick. She's adorable, she comes running when she sees you come out the back door and she adorably shadows you as you do work around the yard. I mean come on. Look at that face.
But Baby Chick has a dark side. A quiet voice that lurks inside of her otherwise gentle body and tells her to do things. Bad Things.
Case and point, look at my beautiful barrel of carrots. Lush, beautiful, still in need of some maturing but holding the promise of sweet roasted carrots this spring.
They had grown so well in fact, that I had to thin them out and enjoy some wonderful baby carrot side dishes.
Baby chick has co-existed with these carrots beautifully for months. Never once has she jumped into these barrels to hunt for bugs or lay her eggs. I can only imagine The Voice returned to her. That it used its honeyed voice to convince her to do bad things again. I don't blame her, who could resist such a one as The Voice? This is what I found this Saturday, the dirty work of The Voice.
In order to protect our yard from future possessions of our otherwise docile chicken, we had to clip Baby Chicks wings. I feel bad, she doesn't understand why she must be exiled to the chicken coop when she obviously belongs with us. Well, I felt bad that is, until I found her still mysteriously able to get out into the yard. I can only assume The Voice was involved.