This is the sum total of the house chicken's house habitat:
A banana box for sleeping, and a Tupperware box to stand on. She eats from the windowsill (where she spotted the weasel), and snacks on the aloe plant when she's into some anti-inflammatory slime.
When she's done eating, or being out, she jumps back down into her box. When she's motivated enough, she will also jump out of it, onto the Tupperware, but usually we lift her out at mealtimes, and she's Oh, perhaps I'll just have a taste.
Husb decided she needed a sign on her chicken fort.
She does love the box.
After a big nap post breakfast, and some grooming, she will spend quite a bit of time standing with her head periscoping out of the box, watching what we're doing.
Look at that luxurious beard.
Again, with the beard.
You guys are boring. I'll have a nap now.
What was really neat was how rapidly she adapted to this bizarre non-chicken environment. I put some screen over her box for maybe two days, lifting her out and in to eat (she couldn't see the food in the dark inside the box), and then she just knew that was her spot, and confidently got comfortable.
Ok, there was one incident.
Oh. Not up here?
I know that she was sick when she came in, and therefore subdued, but she's pretty perky now and still isn't flapping around or jumping in the sink. Are you kidding? This is a good gig.
