We loved Betty and she loved us. But our other chickens? She wasn't sure about them...and the feeling appeared to be mutual.
There was a lot of peering at each other through wire during the first day. On the second day, it was through the hydrangea. Betty is her own hen, she can take or leave stuff. Reggie and Brick are not. Their outlook on life is entirely different and it involves sticking their beaks in places they should probably not...
The chickens didn't actually come to blows until later the second day, when Brick decided the best route to get past a dust-bathing Betty was walking over her. A good, hard peck and the removal of a few tail feathers would ensure Brick remembered to walk around should there be a next time. There had been tussles, which was when we realised a slightly older and larger Betty had been a very good, if accidental, decision when faced with two peeved and established residents.
Later that evening, Reggie had strolled over to see Betty, with teenage rooster swagger engaged. He was somewhat taken aback to be faced with a fluffed up and irritated hen who had every intention of giving him a good clucking to should he dare to advance any further than the plant pot she was standing behind.
It is fairly safe to say that Betty's first week with us was probably below her expectations. She didn't appear to be on top form when we bought her. This meant she had had to go the vets four days in a row during that first week. On each of these days she'd had an injection. (You'd have thought they would've had that bottle of chicken antibiotics out and ready after Brick's visit!).
....She'd also had her temperature taken.
On day one she clucked her immense disapproval and plotted revenge. On day two she put her plan into action. On day three she had the timing nailed. By day four the vet didn't want to take her temperature anymore.
We were sent home in disgrace with a bottle of antibiotics.