Cream Puff was a misnomer. Well, the Puff part was accurate, she spends most of her time puffed up in a rage these days, with her tail flared out. But the cream is all gone. She used to be jumpy, anxious, shy, the first to run shrieking out of the coop when you lift the lid. Now, she moves like a tank, grumbling. Ok, I’ll move, but I think you should move first. She was the one initially completely freaked out by her own broodiness.
Now there are two parties that get admission to the greenhouse in the evening: the one guinea (I just love him. I need to get him some guinea girlfriends), and Cream Puff etc. I open the door and she growls all the way in the door, all the etc hopping in behind her, and then she goes straight to her tomato corner for bed.
In the morning I have to shoo them out.
I can’t get too attached. I think I’m going to let this brood go to a new home, and Cream Puff will go with them until they don’t need her any more. I have more chicks on the way – two little Silkie broodies in the covered wagons, both being good as gold on their eggs.
Cream Puff the Fierce isn’t the friendliest ambassador, but maybe better than her sister, Perchick the Heat-seeking Beak.