I don’t know if I can love a chicken. I know loving people who love ferrets, rats, rabbits, mice and snakes, so I know it’s possible to love a chicken. Generally I have avoided this. I love dogs and donkeys, and sometimes cats, but I don’t love sheep and don’t love chickens.

Meg is growing on me thought. She was in the feeder this morning, then followed me in the barn, and when she jumped up on a hay bale, she got into a brawl with my Canon 70-200 mm lens, pecking at it before I swatted her off of the hay bales and chased her out of the barns, yelling and flapping my arms like..well,a chicken.

Meg is different, for sure. She is aware of everything, and she loves Maria of course, running and waddling to her whenever she shows up. Meg is curious about me, and pecked at my ankle this morning. She is an inquisitive hen. I do not love Meg, I don’t think, and I’m not sure it’s even possible.