Ratty Rita

Most of the chickens have dressed themselves for winter, refeathering those bare backs and bums.  The roosters, Mad King Charles and Tzar Nicholas, once again strut around in their regal finery (still minus the tail feathers).  And then there is Rita, Ratty Rita.  Rita is a Rhode Island Red who stripped down to a bikini (moulted, that is) and has done nothing to get ready for cold weather.  Like Pick-Me-Up Peggy did, Rita runs in front of me at night, stopping so I will stroke her back.  She does not want to be held, just petted.  That naked back is surprisingly warm under my hand.  Like the skin of any plucked chicken, it isn't particularly lovely, and gives Rita a rather woebegone appearance.  She croons as I give her the requested attention.  I think the others make fun of her and this is her way of regaining self-esteem.  In every flock, there are one or two with distinct personalities and/or distinguishing characteristics.  This year it is Ratty Rita.