Every night at bedtime my barred rock, that my husband has so creatively named The Rock, will peck on our back glass door. She is my most sassy and classy lady. I suppose she feels the coop is no place for a hen of her status because there is no other real explanation for her odd behavior. You open the door to let her in and she marches past the kitchen, through the dining room, under the coffee table in the living room, and into my bedroom where she hops on my bed and tries to get under my covers. EVERY NIGHT. I have to pick her up and tell that silly chicken that a bed is no place for a feathered booty. Out to the coop missy. She sure does complain. The whole way back outside she doesn't stop zebra clucking. She has quite the cluck.
