Meet the Flock (and the Rest of the Crew)

I've mentioned her before and have yet to properly introduce her, so let's fix that: the Curious Hen has a real-life counterpart. Her name is Poopy Butt, and yes, that's really what we call her. But she's only one member of a much bigger cast, so let's do this properly, starting with the humans.

The Humans (and the Dog Who's Basically One)

I'm the flock's keeper, which around here means referee, translator, and the person who somehow ends up holding at least one animal at any given moment.

My husband, Peter, is on permanent chicken butt duty and general animal wrangler. If something needs cleaning, catching, or calming down, it's Peter. He's earned it.

And then there's Ben, aka Bumblebee (his given name when he was a little puppy). He's my best friend and best hiking buddy. Before I ever thought about business systems or missing trail markers, he was teaching me to notice things: the fork in the path, the storm rolling in before I'd felt the first drop. He's logged more miles with me than anyone. If the Curious Hen has a spirit behind how Good Roost works, Ben is where I first learned to pay that kind of attention at all.

The Rest of the Household

Lucy is three, wild, and gorgeous about it: one blue eye, one brown, fully capable of being the most cuddly creature in the house one minute and an absolute wild child the next. No in-between.

Gizmo is the elder statesman: seventeen years old, a cat who's been with me since the early days of college. He's moved with me more times than I can count and been through all of it, every version of this life, before Good Roost was even an idea. If anyone's earned the right to judge my life choices from a windowsill, it's him.

The Fab Five

We got our first five chickens a little over a year ago, and they still run the place like founding members of a club nobody else was invited to.

Bertha and Ester are sisters, and the friendliest of the bunch, in the way your favorite grandma is friendly. The kind who'll tell you exactly how to live your best life, cigarette dangling from her beak, while also lecturing you about the dangers of smoking. Total hypocrites. Total sweethearts.

Houdini lives up to her name. She's the escapist, out of the run, off doing her own thing, hiding eggs in spots we still haven't found.

Cleopatra and Cruella round out the founding five, regal and a little dramatic, exactly as advertised.

Frank

Then there's Frank, our rooster. Frank was supposed to be a hen, but he magically turned out to be a boy. Bigger than ever, and fully convinced he's in charge (he's not wrong, exactly). He'll stand his ground, and yes, he'll chase you in a genuinely alarming way. Hasn't actually gotten mean…yet. We're all just quietly hoping it stays that way.

The Second Wave

Nine months ago, the flock doubled. And this is where it gets good.

Poopy Butt earned her name honestly: as a baby, she had constant pasty butt, and Peter became the reluctant expert on chicken hygiene. The name stuck long after the problem cleared up. These days she's the adventurous one: climbing the grill and demanding to be picked up.

Cheeto looks exactly like a Cheeto puff, which is not a metaphor; it's just accurate. She’s Poopy Butt’s sister, with less poopy butt and more fuzzy puff.

Chubby Bunny is, in fact, chubby, always eating, always waddling somewhere with real purpose and very little urgency. Don’t you dare walk in on her laying an egg unless you want to hear what a chicken scream sounds like (it’s actually very human-like and terrifying). 

Penguin looks like a penguin and has the personality to match: a little snotty, a little rude, fully unbothered by what anyone thinks of her.

Flighty Bird is always up on something: the roof, the edge of the water bucket, first out of the run every morning like she's got somewhere better to be.

Moira is the prettiest of the bunch, and she knows it. Mostly keeps to herself, off doing her own thing, because she can. Her mantra is: Worry is but undernourished enthusiasm.

Why This Matters (Even for a Business Blog)

Here's the thing about a full house like this: everybody's got a role, whether they asked for it or not, the escapist, the grandmas, the wrangler, the one quietly holding it all together. Good businesses work the same way,  and when nobody's role is clear, that's usually when the pasty-butt problems start piling up.

So there you go. Two dogs, a cat, a husband, eleven chickens, and one Curious Hen. Now you know exactly who's behind the voice.