Somehow female chickens just suggest old-fashioned names. I mean what someone tactlessly referred to as "old lady" names: Bessie, Agnes, and Harriet, for example.
Our girls are named Edith (she just looked like an Edith), Nona, Lois, and Gladys. This is the bird who will stand and stare you in the eye and deliver a squawking monologue. She somehow named herself--EG calls our nosy, pushy neighbor "Gladys Kravitz," and the bird seems to have much the same personality. She even will run to the door of the coop and spy on us to see just what we are up to.
Anyway, one of the girls is always industriously scratching, looking for bugs, pecking at new things, and busily investigating in a wonderful chicken way. She aslo doesn't kowtow to Dr. M, the rooster. I named her Martha, or rather, she named herself, after the biblical Martha, who didn't take time to sit at the feet of Jesus, but instead did all the work and then complained about it.
I tend to be a bit of a Martha myself.
What I have started doing lately is letting the chickens out of their run if I am home and out in the yard. Martha has discovered the joys of the garden and all its insects, so that is always her first destination, and lately she has graciously refused all attempts to get her to return to the run when it is time. This morning, Martha the Explorer zipped out of the run as soon as I opened the gate and took off into the garden. Apparently, she was in the mood for breakfast out, followed by some aerobics for the both of us as I attempted to chase her back inside.
I guess I can't really blame her.