Walkabout is clearly subdued. The Dude, upon reading my post yesterday, affirmed that she has been quiet in the evenings, was still in a box Tues night. It's possible she has an egg that she can't seem to lay. She's moving like a ship under sail, stately, slowly. Her head is more erect today, which is good. She gets down off the perch, but she was already hunkered down when I put the girls to bed last night. (The Dude has now acquired E's cold while recuperating from his other, work-related, cold.)

On the plus side, there were three old girls still on the top rung this morning. The other two had no idea what I was offering them, special access to the crusts from E's sandwich. But Walkabout knew. And she graciously accepted the treat, ate from my hand. Not quite as greedy as usual, but with appetite. Later she was drinking outside. These are good signs.

Frog Out

Edited to add:
WriterGuy G has arrived and asked whether there is a patron saint of chickens. Apparently, there is. A St. Gallus, who left Ireland for the continent in the 6th century and ended up in Switzerland. So along with St. Bernard, the Swiss have St. Gallus, of the canton of Gallen. Apparently his name means "rooster."