Dottie was the last layer chick at the local feed store last September. As I am an extremely regular customer -- with a known weakness for buying chickens -- the poultry person there gave me this lone mystery breed chick.
She was days old, too small to go outside since she wouldn't be fully feathered until well after winter arrived in northern Iowa. So, she grew up in a large dog crate in the house. At night, she usually "free ranged," roosting on the back of an antique (towel-covered) rocking chair. She was crated when it was time to eat because the Dinah, the terrier, liked to eat chick feed. Dottie got along fine with the cat.
Come spring, it was time for Dottie to go meet chickens. They hated her and vice versa. Attempts to integrate her failed miserably. Even the hen at the bottom of the pecking order wanted to run off Dottie.
Dottie goes outdoors now during the day, but usually flies (most of mine are either heavy-bodied birds who can't fly or lazy birds who don't see the point) over the fence to the non-chicken side of the yard and keeps herself amused until it's time to come in at night.
I still have (small) hopes that she will move outdoors, but I have to relocate young duck hens out of her intended home and do a bit of a remodel. Of course, then I will worry about her being outside, alone, in the cold.
So, the moral of my story is, good luck if you don't get her a buddy soon. You may end up with a house chicken. I love Dottie, but ...
By the way, this mystery breed baby grew up to be a Prairie Bluebell who lays delightfully colored eggs. And, she not only comes running when called, if I say, "Dottie, perch," she will gladly hit a ride on my arm (like a wee white falcon) to be carried into the house.
