Sel is the dignified hen. Although she’s not above making a face when her sensibilities have been offended.
Which is often.
She’s been like that since she I got her, actually.
“How dare you tell me to stay on the table!”
She has an opinion on everything, and isn’t afraid to (loudly) voice it. I can’t open up the coop without having her march upstairs to talk my ear off if I don’t let her outside.
She lays very petite, perfectly round, white eggs.
Sel is the darker of the two blue quail hens. The easiest way to tell which one she is that the feathers on her head and neck are nearly black. Her comb is also larger and darker.
If one of the chickens is going to take off flying, it’s probably Sel. Even as a chick she was the first to jump on the feeder, and the first to start flying up to perch on the edge of the exercise pen.
Sel means salt. While I don’t have a story behind why I named her that, she was actually the first one with a name and Sel just feels right for her. It doesn’t hurt that my favourite salt is sel gris, or grey salt. Salt is such an essential cooking ingredient. While not a stand-alone flavour it brightens and rounds out both savoury foods, desserts (like salted caramel or chocolate), and even cocktails. While Sel isn’t the first of the three chickens to stand out, I can’t imagine the little flock without her.
