Reesey, who used to timidly occupy the absolute bottom
of our flock's pecking order . . .
. . . is now happily striding around her private bungalow with scarcely a limp.
Meanwhile, Abby (who is usually our glossy diva bird)
looks like she got in a fight with a weedwhacker and lost.
At first I thought she had contracted a life-threatening illness,
but it turned out she is just molting.
I wondered if Reesey could successfully reintegrate into the flock
if she came in feeling confident while Abby looked scrawny and pathetic.
I placed Reesey in the chicken run today, ready to pull her out if things went south again,
but to my surprise, she started chasing not just Abby, but one of the Barred Rocks too.
And just like that, Reesey went from being a timorous outcast to being second in command.
A leg injury and weeks of solitary confinement
may be the best things that have ever happened to her.
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