'Twas the last snow of COVID season when my dog sniffed out a bedraggled chick hiding in my basement window well. We knew a paper-trained beauty who preferred evenings with PBS to roosting in a coop was no birdbrain. Our dilemma? We could not turn her over to the law. Nor would it have been fair to keep her. My daughter called her Ginger, and she was good company, but we knew she had a different name and a family somewhere. So, when the weather cleared, we made some discreet inquiries among neighbors on both sides of the town line. Most of them answered “Are you missing a chicken?” with “Are you crazy?” but eventually we found a family overjoyed to have their pet hen, “Houdini,” back, after believing she had been murdered by a coyote.

So yes, I harbored a fugitive chicken and would do it again. Slap the cuffs on, officer. Tell Jane Barton, of your April 30 article, that our family supports her and her two pet chickens. We will carry signs and march if necessary. We are also very glad we do not have a neighbor like the one who ratted her out.

Anita Dees

New London