|Punk being jolly cross|
One of the reasons we could never fit an automatic pop hole closing thingy to our chicken coop is Pom-Pom. Unless it's pouring with rain, she always roosts on the cage gate; sometimes she stays out even if it is raining. This means one of us has to go down to the run every evening, check whether she's out or in and deposit her inside the coop with the others if necessary. Only then can the pop hole be closed up. That "someone" is generally No. 1 Son.
Yesterday evening he went down to lock up and Pom-Pom was comfortably hunkered down on the gate. All the others were nicely settled inside the coop. Maggie and Titian were snuggled up in the nest box, Tu-Tu was in solitary splendour on the back perch and everyone else had jammed themselves onto the front perch.
Then No. 1 Son opened the side door of the coop to pop Pom-Pom inside. This annoyed Mad Irene so much that she got off the perch, leaving a convenient space for Pom-Pom.
So far, so good. Unfortunately, that meant Pom-Pom was right next to Punk, who took strong exception to having to sit next to her ladyship. So the Araucana decided to give Madame a good, hard peck. Fortunately the hand is quicker than the beak and my son managed to move his between Punk's beak and Pom-Pom's head. So she got him instead. This made Punk even crosser and more determined to get at Pom-Pom. So she drew herself up to her full height, stretched her neck to its greatest extent and tried to deliver her peck over the top of the offending hand. Her effort was just that bit too much for her equilibrium; she overbalanced and fell off the perch!
That was the last straw! She stalked off to the other perch, delivering a totally ineffective peck to Pom-Pom's tail as she passed it.