Tonight we went to check on the chickies in their new 'luxe digs. (They were moved to the outdoor coop over the weekend.) I talk to them as I approach to let them know it's me and not a predator. I petted them some, much to their dismay. "Just hand the food over!", they said non-verbally. Not one to be a pushover I continued to pet them. One of the three white chicks decided s/he would show me: s/he bit me! The surprise hurt more than the chick's grip but, as I reassured my husband that it didn't hurt, the little bugger kept on biting me and grabbed on really hard to pinch my finger. Okay, now that hurt!
Quickly I grabbed some crumbles in my other hand and the other chicks gathered around. The Biter realized s/he was missing out and ran to join the feasters. My standard routine is to feed them with one hand while petting them with the other in order to get them more used to human contact. Apparently the Biter was still riled up because s/he resumed nipping me! When I held my arm up so it couldn't reach it, it started going for my leg. Okay, now that does it!
I searched my mind for the appropriate response to a misbehaving chick and came up with a big goose (pardon the pun) egg. Nada. Grasping for the worst chick punishment I could think of, I told my husband, "Its name is Dinner!"
So, pretty white chickie, they name is Dinner, and you had best be hoping that we don't run out of chicken fingers any time soon.