SaltyHen
Songster
My Barred Rock, Bonnie, has become the star of my flock. 
She's just very odd, in an endearing way. Her life's motto seems to be an aloof "idgaf." LOL. She's not lethargic nor scared/bullied, she mingles. It's just a quiet confidence, very easygoing.
I previously posted about how she thinks she's a duck, casually standing in and wading through water up to her waist.
She's also indifferent to snow.
The first snowfall, about a foot deep, light and fluffy, she just sauntered right out into it without a care in the world, while the whole flock stood at the coop entrance, looking at the snow suspiciously and complaining for a couple hours before they dared venture out. 
When all the chickens are sitting on my front step and I open the cabin door, they all take off, except Bonnie. She just sits there on her butt, looking at me like "no, I'm not moving. I'm comfortable. Oh, do you still need to get by? Go around." I have to carefully step over her.
When she lays an egg, she just quietly steps in the nesting box, quietly does her business, and then quietly walks away, no fuss.
The other hens cluck and squawk and do a big song and dance, as you'd expect, and get the whole flock worked up.
When all the other chickens are squawking and pecking and fighting to get settled on the roost at night, they never bother Bonnie. And yet, Bonnie casually moves away and waits for them to stop and settle down before she returns. She doesn't seem timid nor irritated. It's more like: sigh "I want no part of this foolish drama, let me know when you're done."
Here, they're lounging in the afternoon, and Bonnie is quietly, casually shuffling away from the boys as they start squabbling.
She's just very odd, in an endearing way. Her life's motto seems to be an aloof "idgaf." LOL. She's not lethargic nor scared/bullied, she mingles. It's just a quiet confidence, very easygoing. I previously posted about how she thinks she's a duck, casually standing in and wading through water up to her waist.
She's also indifferent to snow.
The first snowfall, about a foot deep, light and fluffy, she just sauntered right out into it without a care in the world, while the whole flock stood at the coop entrance, looking at the snow suspiciously and complaining for a couple hours before they dared venture out. When all the chickens are sitting on my front step and I open the cabin door, they all take off, except Bonnie. She just sits there on her butt, looking at me like "no, I'm not moving. I'm comfortable. Oh, do you still need to get by? Go around." I have to carefully step over her.
When she lays an egg, she just quietly steps in the nesting box, quietly does her business, and then quietly walks away, no fuss.
The other hens cluck and squawk and do a big song and dance, as you'd expect, and get the whole flock worked up.When all the other chickens are squawking and pecking and fighting to get settled on the roost at night, they never bother Bonnie. And yet, Bonnie casually moves away and waits for them to stop and settle down before she returns. She doesn't seem timid nor irritated. It's more like: sigh "I want no part of this foolish drama, let me know when you're done."
Here, they're lounging in the afternoon, and Bonnie is quietly, casually shuffling away from the boys as they start squabbling.
