Reporter: What is a chicken's evidentiary trail?
Owner: Rebel Rogue's only interest in life is FOOD! Isn't it that way with chickens? They scratch, they peck, they strut, they poop. Sorry, I didn't know how to put it nicely. But, they strut and poop at the same time. That's an evidentiary trail.
Reporter: Does a chicken make a good pet?
Owner: Rebel Rogue? Hah. Remember the name. She's a rebel she's independent, her arrival said it all! A few chickens will make a good pet. Rebel Rogue is NOT one of the few.
Reporter: I understand chickens can see better than humans, do you think that's true?
Owner: Chickens see the violet light of the rising sun before we do. They crow and cluck and wake you up! And since Rebel Rogue refuses to eat the green bits of Piper's food, I'd say that's true.
Reporter: Tell me more about Rogue, Piper, and the food.
Owner: It lays for days! Rebel let that cracked corn lay for days. Like I said, Rebel is after the food -- the cat's food! Oh, she'll get into the piles of dry leaves along the fence and scratch until its all out into the yard so she can get to the bugs, and worms. But she's always nosing around, "Where'd they feed that cat last?"
She even pecks the bits of Piper's dry food out of the cracks of wooden deck slats and whatever gets stuck between the picnic table boards. Cracked corn is cheaper than cat food, and we cast it towards her but she ignores it.
Reporter: Which does Rebel like best, Piper's wet or dry?
Owner: Both, she likes both. But I'm wondering what's wrong with green since she leaves them behind.
Supposedly, she learned that from her mother hen.
Reporter: I've heard you've found eggs in all the wrong places.
Owner: Well, the first three eggs we found were on the tool bench in the garage! Why roost there? The weather had been cool and rainy, I suspected they were good, I boiled 'em. We ate 'em last night.
A stray egg I just found amongst the lilies. I didn't know about its age, and since the weather had warmed up, I cracked it open to give it a sniff. It was fine! Should've ate it, too.
Reporter: Isn't there a test for that?
Owner: Yes. I'd forgotten. Hubby reminded me that I could've floated it.
Reporter: Only 4 eggs? Don't they lay one a day?
Owner: A chicken should. Rebel's been here 10 days, so there's 6 eggs somewhere!!!! Her bodily smells, and the fermenting smell of the cracked corn, it rained, you know, will be attracting predators. Chicken tenders for a fox! "Would you like fries with that?" chuckle.
Reporter: So, you'll be taking her home soon?
Owner: We really need to catch her! But did you know they can run 9 miles an hour! Catching will be a trick. Maybe we just need a pick-up. That's how she arrived, remember, LOL! "Here, chicky-chicky, hop up into the trucky-truck!" Think that'll work? LOL.
Reporter: Do you know where she came from, have you driven by there?
Owner: Oh, you should see the place! I should've taken a picture! Just visualize Ma & Pa Kettle! I kid you not, it was like a black and white photo in today's Kodachrome world.
Like an old jalopy in hillbilly land, we first had to weave around a black chicken with feathered legs strutting down the county road, mindless.
Then the visual! A 3 story farm house, dung colored, set behind a far-reaching very large maple tree. An upside-down wicker love seat, an overturned 5 gallon bucket, a stray shovel, kids riding toys, a yellow plastic slide, in a yard of mud! There was no grass except where the lady of the house had dreams of beautification -- a sweet bed of black dirt and newly planted orange, blue and yellow flowers. The ramp to the porch dwarfed the flower bed view, though. But that ramp wasn't for a wheelchair, the rug spread over it, covered in mud, was for the livestock hooved feet to catch hold!
There was an aged hairy pig standing on the porch blocking the front door. He gave us a scowling look.
Reporter: What about the chickens, were there 38?
Owner: They were everywhere! Chickens run amuck! Two were under the patio table, four came out of the dilapidated shed, and one walked under the belly of the pig. Dogs were tethered to an old truck yanking themselves silly, at full length barking and trying desperately to get to the chickens teasing them. They were within pecking distance, you know. Chickens were everywhere!
Reporter: Any last stunning details or something of interest about Rebel's old home?
Owner: Well. Sure. Now that I think about it, there was this one thing. A large 4 x 8 sheet of plywood propped up by a plow in the middle of the paddock that read in crude black spray paint "House and 6 Acres For Sale"!
With a rusted livestock trailer or two in the weeds, the old transit school bus sunk on the hill, and a garden hose stretched long across the cracked sidewalk leading to nowhere, they'll never get their asking price.
And unless she's pining for a rooster, Rebel Rogue will never go home.
Reporter: Are you sure, she'd have freedom and friends?
Owner: True. But remember, Rebel's only interest in life is food and the old home place has a chicken proof yard -- impeccable!
She ain't no chicken chicken.
Epilogue: Piper came out of the garage, slinking slowly - body, tail, and head on a level plane - peering under the truck, turn head left, turn head right, eyes scanning, "Where's that clucker that eats my food?" 
