What's In a Name?

Before I became a mother, I sat across the isle from a man on an airplane once who was an expert on the behaviors of children in relationship to birth order. He had a captive audience of anyone within ear shot for an hour, and fellow passengers asked questions to get some free advice. The topic turned to naming children. He talked about research that shows a correlation between people with strong names in great careers, and people with soft, quiet names often times being overlooked for big, corporate jobs.

In his speeches, he warned parents about setting an expection or requirement within a child's name. He used Precious, as an example, Treasure, and Tomorrow. And Candy, who, even as Candace, might not become CEO. And Reed, the boy who doesn't play sports. And Thor, the boy who does. And Jane, who's plain. And Dick. I've worked for him before. I chose names carefully for my boys.

I was given the job of naming our chickens. It's a big responsibility. The names should fit the chicken's personality. How can I name them when I've just met them? I was under some pressure, because I hesitated with our Blackie, and now she's just Blackie.

Our third Minorca chicken was almost identical to Mona, but prettier. She was timid and stayed close to her sister/friends. I named her Baby. This name has proven to be the worst choice I could have made. Apparently she's never heard of the expert's reasoning. She is not a baby. She is a bully. When the new red pullets arrived, she's the chicken who demonstrated "pecking order." She pecked on their heads, trying to peck their eyes out. She refused to allow them in the yard at all. She chased them down and kept them from the food. She ran them out of the coop. We had to create a makeshift loft in a shed until they were bigger. Their breed is larger than Minorcas, and now they are bigger than Baby, but they are still afraid of her. She is a barnyard thug. She's defient and always a little pissy.

I'm changing her name to Bully.