Well, history. At two-weeks old, Flo was perching on the edge of the brooder, and whenever I opened the hatch, she would jump onto my shoulder. She would cuddle under my chin as I browzed the internet, and was content for long stretches of "lap time".
As she grew, she was the only one in the flock, besides the two roosters, who responded to her name. When she was just four-months old, she was starting to pick feathers, and soon thereafter, she was wearing pinless peepers. She didn't see as well as her sharp little brain demanded, so she would hold back her egg until I came into the pen and she would hop onto the perch in front of the flapped pop hole, cawing to me to hold them up so she could go in and lay her egg.
Even now, in her jail, if she is needing to lay an unscheduled egg, she caws to me to take her out and let her into her nest box.
So, you see, this hen is so intelligent, she has me trained so well, she knows I can't kill her.