I am thoroughly convinced that I own a terrorist hen. At first I thought she was simply the "leader of the hood", so to speak. She always comes running up to me at somewhat of an angle, kind of like she's going to jump up and attack, but at the last minute she changes her mind when I give her a piece of my mind. When she sees me or hears me come out of the house, she comes on a dead sprint from wherever she is on the farm. Well, she definitely is a "free-range" hen.
No vehicle is safe from Hensama. If a door is left open, she not-to-politely invites herself into the vehicle. She'll stand there a minute, contemplating the best way to hop into the vehicle. If it's a pickup, she opts for the floor because it's too far up to the seat. If it's a car, she's pretty confident she can leap onto the seat with a single bound. If the door is shut, she'll stare down the front bumper and eye the top of the hood.
But Hensama did something a couple of days ago that earned her "the" name. I cruised into the feed barn to toss out a little hen scratch. Hensama came on the run and flogged her way to the front of the proverbial pecking order. I just picked up the nearly-empty sack and tossed out a little feed--along with a mouse. Forget the feed! Hensama spied the mouse and the chase was on. She'd take her claws, talons, whatever they're called, and try to step on the mouse. Mighty Mouse would zig and Hensama would zag. All the while she is clucking at the top of her lungs and the rest of the chicken ranch residents looked at her as if she had totally lost the remains of her pea brain.