Good Morning Puff

On the one morning when I am able to sleep in, I get a 6am wake up call. From who you ask? Puff, my injured chicken who lives in a cage in the run. I do not want a noise complaint filed against us, so I go outside to see whats up. Puff, all up in hysterics is puffed up to twice her size standing on top of her water feeder yelping for dear life. I can't help but laugh, and suddenly I find myself not so upset that I'm up at 6am on a Saturday. I really love having chickens, even ones with gender confusion. Dear Puff, you are not a rooster, therefore you do not need to cluck at 6am.