centrachid knows his games.
They do like to roost high.
Quick story about my English game hen. I had a covered run of Buff Orphintgons back in Alabama. And one day this road runner looking bird came prancing out of the woods, flew-up on top of the run, found a gap in the hawk netting, and joined my flock. I chased her around the pen until I caught her and booted her out as she was beating up on my orphintons single handedly. Five minutes later she was back in the pen, and so it went. Finally, I determined that she was so unusual - I'd never seen a game before - that I would keep her. So I kept her in the run when I let the orphingtons out to free range during the day. Despite my efforts to tame her, she remained a free spirit and even when she did eat out of my hand she exercised extreme caution and jumpiness. I never could pet her while she was on the roost as she would bite and peck relentlessly. She entered the flock over half way up in the pecking order and remained near the top- and had such spunk and fire that I named her Ember. She was a good mother anyhow, and raised me two lovely clutches of orphington chicks.
When I sold my orphingtons to take a trip to Europe, I gave Ember her freedom. She had come to me a free bird, and she remained a free bird. So she had an entire coop to herself for another year, and free ranged daily.
I had to leave her behind when I married, and my parents and siblings continued watching over her and feeding her table scraps when she came around the house. It was just a couple of months ago that something took her. But at least, she had been a free bird. Spunky little Ember. I miss that chick.