Last night I put her in with the other girls for body heat, but she wasn’t comfortable being so close to them, and moved out to her own little nest to sleep on her own. This morning she was taking a few steps at a time, and there was harmony in the disco. Grace tried to peck at her, but she walked away, and Grace lost interest.

Tonight, when we went to check on them, she was snuggled in with the other girls in the nesting box.

I am thinking about an appropriate name for her – Rainbow is a very meaningful name, but it lacks a certain glamour. Paula had seen a truck full of chickens on their way to the factory, and felt powerless to change the fate of the little feathered souls on board. Later, she saw a rainbow, and found Rainbow by the side of the road.

I’m thinking about Janis Joplin – posterchild for the rainbow children of the sixties, and a great example of the “live hard, die young” ethos. Rainbow’s breeding means she is unlikely to live to a ripe old age – so we’ll just spoil her rotten till the end of her days.

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