The Banished Hen

I’ve always had a soft spot for chickens. They taste fantastic, and their eggs are pure gold. But every once in a while, one of them gets a terrible idea: “Hey, those eggs I just laid? Those are snacks.”

Then, like a bad TikTok dance, the habit spreads. Soon my pampered, well-fed hens are throwing an all-you-can-eat egg buffet in the coop, and my daily production drops from respectable to “one sad egg if I’m lucky.”

As the guy who pays the mortgage and buys the feed, I raised my hands to the heavens and loudly declared this behavior unacceptable.

Cue the Great Egg Investigation of 2025. I installed a chicken cam inside the coop like I was filming a feathered episode of Law & Order. After a month of grainy footage and growing suspicion, I finally identified the culprits: two innocent-looking white hens my friend had “generously” gifted us.

I yanked them into poultry solitary confinement for two days.

Miracle of miracles (Fiddler on the Roof, eh?), the egg production jumped to about a dozen a day. Still not peak performance, but suddenly we weren’t living in the Great Egg Famine anymore.

So I did the logical thing: I released one suspect back into the general population and kept the repeat offender (the one with the suspicious black speckle) locked up like the egg-eating felon she is.

Eggs have been flowing like wine ever since. Hallelujah!

The verdict is in: she is officially banished for life. Now she wanders the outer edges of the run like a tragic Shakespearean chicken, staring wistfully at the warm coop, the protective wings of Jimothy the rooster, and the sisterhood she betrayed for a second breakfast.

Doomed to shiver alone through the bleak midwinter, forever separated from the warm, clucking sisterhood she betrayed for a midday snack.

Justice has been served. Extra crispy, if necessary.