dans la cuisine

There's a chicken dans ma cuisine.

I thought it might sound better if I said it in French.

Uhm, maybe not, I say in my Julia Child accent, if I had one.

There's something about saying there's a chicken in my kitchen that could be a little ambiguous.

If you catch my drift.

She's been there all night.

I thought things were weird when she didn't join her flock for a little morning scratch.

I knew things were weird when she didn't spend the day foraging.

We checked for pasty butt and we checked her crop. No issues.

Then we washed, rinsed and repeated Saturday all over again on Sunday and the Artist finally figured it out.

She was egg bound.

We soaked her in a wash tub of warm water for half an hour.
After some gentle poking and prodding, we believe it's all out now and either the egg never formed properly or it broke before we got to her.

She was too wet to put back in the coop last night. So we put her up at the Holiday Revival Inn and called it a night. She seems perkier this morning. For now, we're keeping our fingers crossed that she'll return to her regularly scheduled foraging duties today.

~Be well friends~