He's got a name -- meet Captain Jack. The name suits him, and I think it will stick.
There was a baptism of sorts right after I told him his name and closed everyone in for the night. I went around to shut the little door to their run and stepped squarely into the middle the chickens' water pan. My left clog, sock and jeans were soaked halfway to the knee in cold water. Methinks I heard clucky-chuckles as I squelshed back to the house.
I think Captain Jack likes it here...
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