Don't assume my chicken's gender

Originally dubbed Beyoncé Jr., my chicken had become completely sun-faded in the years s/he sat guarding my front door. I decided it was time to bring color back into our lives, so Lydia and I broke out every single jar of nail polish we had and started painting. After she painted the comb and wattle red, it occurred to both of us - "Hey! This isn't a Beyoncé; this is a boy chicken!"

Behold Henrí. He's transgender.