This isn’t the first time this investigation has been conducted. It certainly won’t be the last. I’m not trying to reinvent the wheel here; I’m just looking for answers. You might be asking yourself why. Well, you see, I have recently ran into this bad egg. I should correct myself right about here: I’m sure it’s not a truly bad egg. It’s just a little odd, a little different than the rest. Let me paint you a picture of the day we met. It was a dark and stormy summer night It was a cold and windy Saturday afternoon. This past Saturday, to be exact. This little chick I know was on lock down for bad behavior. The little vixen (No, really. Her name is Vixey, our Partridge Plymouth Rock) got mixed up in some feather picking and needed solitary confinement to think about what had gone down.