George, The Poop Head

I believe all of George's attitude comes from when she was a little chick and I thought she was a he due to her aggressive behavior so I named her George. Ever since she has been a big huge poop head! Here is an example ...

It was after dark on Thursday when I went down to feed the sheep some hay, fill the chicken feeder and lock the chickens in their run for the night. I had on a head lamp so prevent my tripping over everything. As I pushed open the barn door and the barn light, which is on a motion censor, turned on there was George walking towards me. "George! For pete sake! Why aren't you in your home?!" Knowing it could take a while to get George under control and into the run, I decided to proceed with feeding the sheep first. George just skirted around me as I pulled out a couple squares of hay and left.

It seems like an easy enough task to shoo a chicken out of a large barn door. But every time I got George going towards the door, she would turn tail and charge at me, running back to the hay. I'd get behind her and start shooing again only to be charged again. One time George came right at my ankles and I jump, kicking my right leg high, so she could run under me. And all the while the barn light is going on and off as I trip the censor.

After more than 5 minutes of this, I thought, "I've got to be smarter than the damn chicken!" Watching George I realized she was fine walking to the barn door but then turned away at the last minute. Maybe she was afraid of going into the dark? I know sheep are leery of going from the bright outside into the barn, even when following their bahhing lamb. Maybe George was just scared. So I stood still, behind a large post, until the barn light went out. Then I slowly as to not the trip the light trained my headlamp on on the barn door. George walked right over. I moved light out the door and she went out. I followed and closed the barn door behind us.

At this point George could see the run and coop, with the light in the coop shining brightly. I figured she'd head right over to join her coopmates. Instead, she walked over the where the sheep were happily munching hay and scrunched through the fence right under the mass of sheep legs. "Fine! I hope a coyote gets you!" And I went upstairs.

Of course I didn't mean it. About an hour later I went down. George was in the coop with everyone else. I locked them in for the night. The next morning I realized in all the chicken chasing I had forgotten to grab the eggs. Thankfully, all three in tacked.