No, the big question was, "Who gets to name them?" And the answer was the Kid, at least for three out of four. Because that's just what you do when you have kids, right? They get to name the pets.
Introducing Daisy (a red sex-link), Kelly (a Rhode Island Red), Smudger (a Spangled Sussex), and Rooster (an unspecified bantam). Little Daisy is my favorite, of course, and I'm crossing my fingers that Rooster doesn't live up to her (?) name.
But about those goings....
When last we spoke of the flock, Emily was holed up in the shed nursing her wounds. When we reintroduced her to the flock, Adele--who I suspect had formerly been held in check by the older chickens before they were murdered by the raccoon--went mad with power. Emily was a bloody mess. Katie lost about half her comb in the melee. It was a grisly takeover.
They weren't over crowded; they had plenty to eat. All the advice I found online about small flock management said to isolate the bully for several days, and then if she went back to her mean ways to "get rid of her".
After spending several days in the shed, Adele immediately went back on the attack, so....Ropa Vieja it was.
As a side note, if you're ever going to butcher your own chickens, don't slip up and accidentally tell your four-year-old, "We're eating her because she was mean." Because therapy bill.