There is a saying, "Be careful what you wish for." It's right up there with, "There can be too much of a good thing." I had hoped that BF Betty would continue to want to be held. That wish was granted. I opened the little door to let the chickens out in the morning and Betty all but leaped into my arms and I carried her with me while opening the big door and checking the water bowls. With goats to tend, I put her down, told her to have a good day, and went about my business. Later, taking the little kids their milk and trying to pour out of the bucket, there was Betty pecking at my shoe. "Hey, down here! I'm down here, lady!" So I set the bucket down and picked up the chicken. There was a repeat performance at nightfall. I'm about ready to change her name to Needy Nellie and get one of those baby slings to carry her next to my chest. (She's pretty funny.)
Not so funny was finding one of the white pullets and the cockerel waiting outside the pen at dusk. They'd evidently overcome the clipped-wing inequality and flew over the fence. Drat! Fortunately, Bessie, with her failing eyesight, had not seen them and I hurriedly put her in the feed room. Bess is an inveterate herder and makes it her mission to get the chickens in at night if they are the least bit reluctant and I didn't want to have a wild chase on my hands. The rest of the flock had to go into the coop before I could open the gate for the two escapees. Happily, they came in the pen right away, I opened the door for them, they joined the flock, and chicken chores were done for the day. Poor Bess had no idea why I'd locked her away, but she has a forgiving heart.
I had hurried home from the daily (only three more to go!) radiation appointment, knowing Linda would be coming over. She traded a cantaloupe for a cold beer, and I don't know who got the better deal. The melon was delicious.
It was a good day.