Mystery chicken has ruffled my feathers

AS I write this there’s a hen who is totally dependent on me sitting on my patio. I don’t know her. I have never seen her before. She rocked up to my gaff yesterday. I’m not averse to unexpected visitors but in this case I’m beginning to have reservations. She is pooing indiscriminately all over the place and I have no idea how to look after hens. I’m a city gal.

I went to get into my car yesterday evening. And sitting in the middle of my small suburban garden was a pretty brown hen. Because both my brain and eyesight are diminishing, I stood still, gathered my thoughts, looked away and looked back. No, she was still in situ. My immediate reaction was to take a photo to prove to people I wasn’t losing it. That’s the way my life is going.

Rather than see her meet her demise on the road, I put her into my back garden and started googling frantically. I’m now an expert on hens. She spent most of the day in a corner not doing anything so I begged the question of Google ‘Do hens get lonely and bored?’. It appears they do. And they start pecking people if they are bored. That’s what comes from being an only hen. I was cracking myself up with puns while I chatted to her. I found myself saying stuff like “How about a hen party?” and “This is a right cock up, isn’t it?” and “I don’t want to ruffle your feathers but…” She looked at me witheringly and continued to poo relentlessly.

I shared my story on Facebook much to the mirth of my friends who came back with stuff like “Your chickens have come home to roost” and “Eggstrodinary”, “I suspect fowl play” and other such unhelpful comments. I’m not sure what I’m going to do with her but I’m hatching a plan...