This weekend we took Charlie outside (by herself – no other chickens around) so that she could eat some tasty bugs and organic matter. There was also method to my (continued Charlie) madness. I wanted her to be outdoors if only for the sensations to her feet of real ground. I’m a little concerned that a chicken with known foot problems has learned only how to walk on a flat surface, we’ve all noticed that in the house she sort of galumphs around when she is happy. It’s an odd little dance. I’m not necessarily saying this is bad (after all, I’ve been known to galumph on occasion) but I just want to make sure that Charlie has all the chicken life skills she’ll need and that includes walking on and scratching in dirt.
At first she was intrigued with what she found on the ground. Num, nums. She ate critters, small pebbles, and stray feed.
After she had had her fill, Charlie discovered dirt. She was over the moon when she discovered that a dirt bath done with real dirt beats a dirt bath on a tile floor any day.
But when some of the neighborhood birds called and flew overhead, when a back door slammed shut a little too loudly, and when she heard someone playing inside with Pippin – calling him a “good puppy” she decided that she had had her fill of the great outdoors and hightailed it to the safety of the house instead.
Enough excitement for one day.
