chicken baby

The bf and I have bonded over a chicken. We don't have kids together. We've never had a pet together. Jerry the Cat doesn't really count because he's always been called "your irritating cat", even though I've seen the bf soften towards him and even get him out a can of food on occasion. And even for the first year or so of having chickens, although it was supposed to be something of a joint effort, they largely became my chickens. But now we are down to one chicken who free ranges around the property. Being a flock animal suddenly bereft of sisters, The Chicken (whose only name is The Chicken) decided that we were her flock. She calls for us in the back yard with a screech. And when we answer "chickie chickie chickie" to her calls, she coos the happiest coo and comes running. She comes up on the screened porch if we are sitting out there. She tries to come in the house with us. If we are outside, she is right there on our feet. She learned a trick from Jerry the Cat--pecking, scratching, or whining at certain doors gets our attention. She gets very excited when we go down to the back of the yard to pick blackberries like it's her favorite activity, her big adventure for the day. She expresses love to the best of her avian abilities. The bf and I both feed her, give her treats, talk to her, talk *about* her. He called me at work the other morning, very concerned. "Did you see The Chicken? I didn't see her when I left." Our little bird-brained baby.