Ever owned a chicken?

Saw this post and it reminded me of the time I owned a couple pet bantams.

“This is not my chicken, but she thinks she is. My neighbor owns chickens, I don't. She came over one day and won't leave. She's very sweet and friendly. We brought her back home and 15 minutes later she was back. Don't chickens want to be in a flock? She's been over here a couple of weeks. How do I get her to go home? She doesn't lay any eggs, just poops on my deck and stares at me through the patio doors lol. Any ideas welcome as I have no idea how chickens think.

Update: I have talked with the owner of the hen.

The hens buddy that she used to hang out with is now a special need's chicken and is housed separately. Since she lost her buddy she's been a little food aggressive over there. I guess she figured over here she didn't have to share lol. We now call her Henrietta and she's spoiled rotten.”

This is a real post from social media. Here is my response:

This is comedy gold, and honestly, Henrietta sounds like she’s got the main character energy we all aspire to. She picked her favorite Airbnb, decided the service was excellent, and simply never left. So let’s elaborate with some fun commentary and suggestions fit for a chicken diva:

Henrietta: The Chicken Who Chose You

Let’s get one thing clear — you don’t own a chicken. You’ve been chosen by a chicken. Henrietta has evaluated her options and decided your patio is now her palace. The HOA rules mean nothing to her. She is the HOA now.

What Henrietta Might Be Thinking:

• “Over here, the snacks are better and nobody pecks me.”
• “You open the door and look at me like I’m a guest. At my old place? They expected me to lay eggs. The nerve.”
• “This deck? Mine. That potted mum I knocked over? Also mine. I am but a rustic feathered queen.”

Daily Henrietta Habits:

• Morning: Poop on deck. Stare into your soul while you sip coffee.
• Afternoon: Knock over plants, fluff feathers menacingly at squirrels.
• Evening: Stare through patio glass like a tiny beaked horror movie villain. Sleep? Only if she says so.

Suggestions (a mix of real and ridiculous):

1. Build her a little chicken condo. You’ve got yourself a freeloading squatter, might as well get some rent. A tiny sign that says Henrietta’s Hut: No Roosters Allowed is a must.
2. Give her a task. Maybe she’s bored. Set her up with a fake laptop and let her work from deck. Put her on bug patrol. Tell her she’s your Chief Poop Officer.
3. Tiny therapy sessions. She’s grieving her buddy and found comfort in your peaceful, egg-free vibes. Maybe she just needs someone to listen. You’re now a chicken therapist.
4. Egg tax. If she’s going to live there rent-free, she needs to deliver. One egg per week. We know she said she’s “on a break” — but c’mon, girl.
5. Return policy has expired. Let’s be honest: You’re now her human. You named her. She’s home. You might want to put out a water dish and start budgeting for mealworms.
6. Henfluencer campaign. Henrietta has personality. She needs her own Instagram account. Imagine: @HenriettaTheHomeWrecker with captions like “Still no eggs. Still fabulous.”

BOTTOM LINE: You don’t get to get her to go home. She left home. She’s got boundaries now. She saw the neighborhood, did some mental math, and moved up the ladder. And you’re the lucky winner.

Julie Bolejack, MBA