Mr. Norah went to her new home last weekend. Loading her up and transporting her was a little stressful for the both of us. She didn't want to be caught, so a long chase around the yard ensued. Once she was caught she was completely shell shocked to be riding in the car. (In a dog crate, for those of you picturing me riding down the highway with a chicken on my lap!)
But once we got to the farm, I didn't feel so bad for her. Absolute heaven. Chickens, horses, buffalo, fields as far as the eye could see....I probably would have moved in if they would have let me, but I could tell from the way Nice Co-Worker's brother expertly lifted Norah out of the crate--as opposed to the half hour of chasing it took me to get her into it--that I had no useful skills to offer them!
When I left Norah was still trying to get her bearings, but she was starting to cluck and even crow a little. On Monday morning, Nice Co-Worker let me know that she (and it appears both the name and gender have stuck, even at her new home) was making friends and taking part in the flock just fine.
And now we're down to six again. It seems we just can't keep up that "lucky" seven for long. Depending on how we cope with the Peapod's first few months, and depending on how our girls do over the winter, we'll probably get a few more chicks next year or the year after. I would like to try another Wyandotte (like little Fiona) and another Australorp (like Norah, who was incredibly friendly), or maybe a little Mille Fleur bantam, just because their fuzzy feet make me laugh.