On Porch Crimes and Repeat Offenders
There is a particular hen who has, over time, developed a reputation.
Not for productivity. Not for temperament.
But for crime.
She is, at present, wanted on multiple counts of trespassing, property destruction, and what can only be described as premeditated inconvenience.
Suspect leaving the scene
Her method is consistent.
While the rest of the flock spends the day responsibly rotating through pasture—grazing, foraging, contributing to the overall ecosystem—she makes a deliberate and calculated decision to leave the field entirely.
Her destination is always the same.
The porch.
There is no grass there. No meaningful forage. No worms to speak of. Only a series of carefully arranged flower pots, each filled with soil that is, from her perspective, apparently perfect.
She arrives loudly.
There is no attempt at subtlety. No quiet entry. She announces herself with a series of sharp, indignant sounds, as if we are the ones who have intruded on her space.
And then, without hesitation, the work begins.
Scratching.
Aggressive, targeted scratching.
Soil is displaced. Structure is compromised. A once well-contained plant becomes, within seconds, a scene of total disruption.
At this point, there is usually eye contact.
She pauses.
Looks directly at me.
And in that brief moment, there is a distinct awareness. A recognition that what is happening is, at best, questionable.
And then she continues.
Sometimes—though not always—this is followed by the laying of an egg. Not in a nesting box. Not in any of the carefully prepared spaces designed specifically for this purpose.
But in the flower pot.
On the porch.
As if this had been the plan all along.
And then, just as abruptly as she arrived, she leaves.
No cleanup. No apology. No indication that this behavior will not be repeated.
She walks down the porch, glancing back over her shoulder. There is something unmistakably guilty in the posture. Not ashamed. Not remorseful.
Just aware.
Aware that she has done this before.
Aware that she will almost certainly do it again.
It is, in many ways, the least efficient way to be a chicken.
But it is, undeniably, a very committed approach.
We have taken note.
