Tomorrow is another day, Scarlett.

Over the weekend, I talked to everyone I know who has chickens, asking them about Scarlett. My red hen continues to sit in that nesting box, no longer sitting on a fake egg, just sitting there in contemplation. To hatch or not to hatch... that is the question. For Scarlett, there's just one answer-- there's no egg in that nest, you crazy hen, so there's nothing to hatch!

A hen on a mission... that's what Scarlett has turned into. A couple of our chicken-raising friends told me to get a fertilized egg for Scarlett to sit on, or just get her a day-old chick from the Feed Store. Scarlett has been sitting in that nesting box for 34 days now. Getting her a fertilized egg at this point is taking a gamble that she will sit on a chick-filled egg till it hatches, after all the hatch-less sitting she has already done. Buying a day-old chick is a different sort of gamble. When you buy chicks that young, you don't know if it will mature into a hen or a rooster. The Feed Stores don't sex-test them, they just sell them. Our across-the-road neighbor just bought 20 chicks and he could very well end up with 18 roosters. We don't want a rooster. They bother the hens too much, they're too noisy, and they tend to take over the coop.

Baby chicks aren't the easiest things to raise, either. You have to keep the little chick super-warm till it gets its second set of feathers. And I would have to keep both Scarlett and her chick in a separate "quiet coop," away from the other hens who might be jealous and decide that they don't want an alien chick in their coop. Plus the cat-factor here..... my cats know they can't catch the hens, but they sure would be able to catch a tiny baby chick.

Mickey Kitty, however, is still learning that he shouldn't chase the hens. He was chasing Audrey around the yard this afternoon, and Prissy got into the parade and started chasing Mickey. As soon as he realized that he was being chased by another hen, Mickey jumped up onto the porch, breathless and confused, and gave me his best please-please-please-pick-me-up meows. Of course I picked him up and his heart was beating so fast that I could feel it. He will forget his little adventure tomorrow, and he'll probably be chasing one of the chickens again.

But... back to Scarlett. One of our friends suggested we bring Scarlett to a vet-- could it be possible that she had an egg stuck inside her? Maybe that's why she was staying in the nesting box? Because she just couldn't release the egg? Well, didn't that possibility just make my day. My husband told our friend that the vet bill for a chicken check-up would cost more than what we paid for the chicken in the first place. I finally thought of calling Mr. Watson, the man with the 200+ chickens on his property, where we bought all the hens.

Mr. Watson remembered us, and I'm sure when I told him my Scarlett story he was laughing and smiling at the other end of that phone. When I told him that I had been feeding Scarlett fresh bread (without the crust, which she doesn't like) as she sat in the nesting box, he said "Say what? No crust? In the nesting box? Well, if I wuz a hen, I'd be settin' there too for 34 days."

Watson told me that if Scarlett had an egg lodged up inside her, she'd be "one dead hen already." He said that getting a baby chick for her would be a good idea, but only if I could keep the chick away from the other hens, and only if I was willing to take a chance that the baby chick would grow into a rooster. His last suggestion made the most sense-- "Just keep pullin' that stubborn hen out of that box. Keep on goin' out there and just pull 'er off and set 'er down on the ground. And stop givin' 'er bread when she's in that box!"

So that's what I did. No more breakfast in the nesting box for Scarlett. (Both Watson and two of the neighbors told me that Scarlett wasn't starving herself, that she was leaving that box to get food and water right there in the coop when I wasn't looking.) Nearly every hour yesterday, I went out to the coop and covered Scarlett with an old towel and wrapped her up and took her out of the nesting box. (The towel prevents her from scratching me with her claws or pecking me with her beak, both of which she might do if she's scared or just plain doesn't want to leave the nest and those phantom-eggs of hers.)

One of the times when I took Scarlett out of the box, I set her down in the grass outside the coop, and there was Mickey, hiding in the rose bushes, and out he came... and chased Scarlett towards the barn. That red hen ran across the yard flapping her wings and looking as healthy as the day she first started sitting in that nesting box.

This morning, when I went to give the chickens some bread, Scarlett was in the yard by the cottage. She saw me coming with the bread and she took off running towards the coop. I heard her fly up into the nesting box and I just know she was in there waiting for me to give her the best center parts of the bread, no crusts please. I gave the bread to the other hens, then went into the coop and told Scarlett that coop-service was over and done with. If she wanted bread and vegetables, then she had better get out of the nesting box and into the yard with the other hens. Scarlett sat there and blinked those yellow eyes at me.

Scarlett and I are at a stand-off. I'm going to continue to go into the coop and take her out of the nesting box. She's going to walk around the yard a bit here and there, and then probably take herself back into that box of hers. There is no egg underneath her, and the fresh grass that was in her nest has turned into brown hay now and I'm not going to replace it till she comes to her senses. This "broody" state of hers may last another couple of days, or another couple of weeks. It's up to Scarlett.

Scarlett, indeed. I certainly gave that red hen the right name. Makes me wonder if she's living up to the name itself, or if the name truly suited her to begin with. I named her Scarlett just because of her coloring, and then the other "Gone With the Wind" names (Prissy and Mammy) just seemed to fit the two black-feathered hens.

Chickens. Every day with them as been another lesson.