A Home for Henna


Country - - PEOPLE -

each night in a tree by our front door and spent her days nap­ping un­der the bougainvil­lea.

We bought a spe­cial so­lar light with two “eyes” to dis­cour­age preda­tory owls and hawks, and we filled our cab­i­nets with chicken mash, chicken scratch, poul­try grit and dried cider vine­gar pow­der to keep her healthy. We were the only farm­ers I knew who spent so much on one chicken that pro­vided no eggs or meat.

Grad­u­ally, how­ever, Henna did al­low us to get closer. She would take a dust bath in front of me and even­tu­ally ate treats off the top of my shoe and out of my hand. She greeted me with var­i­ous clucks and came to our kitchen win­dow to call for me. Charles teased me about be­ing a hum­ble ser­vant to a wild chicken, but I didn’t mind.

Our beloved chicken Henna was with us for al­most two years, and we hon­ored her with a proper burial in our yard. Per­haps we will never be real farm­ers, but I now have a new ap­pre­ci­a­tion for one of God’s crea­tures.

Henna Cluck hopped onto a fence and found a new flock to love.

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