There is a chicken pen on our family farm. For most of the animals, it seems to be an acceptable habitat. As always, however, there are exceptions. One chicken in particular manages to escape all the time. But instead of living it up in freedom, the hen prefers to walk over to the door of the farmhouse, where she has built a nest, and lay her eggs. I find this quite convenient (and pretty hilarious). All you have to do for your breakfast egg is to open the door and pick it up. Other people have newspapers delivered, my grandma gets eggs.