Name My Chicken

What's my name?

   Generally, I don't name my chickens. I don't consider them pets. When one distinguishes itself in some way, I break my rule. First was Amelia, who liked to fly out of the yard until I trimmed her flight feathers. Then there was poor Bumblefoot, cursed in life with a diseased foot and in death by a hungry fox. Randy distinguished himself by his rooster-ness alone.
   My  new layers seem to be a lot of trouble, or more trouble than the last batch. At 25 weeks several are finally laying smallish eggs, but they are flyers and I am constantly herding them back into the pen or trying to catch them. I grabbed one of the Australorps by the feet a few weeks ago and she actually tried to bend over and PECK me!
   The Barred Rocks are particularly flighty and daily one or the other or both of them fly out and sometime back into the yard. I have given up trying to catch them immediately, but just to make sure they are in at night. "Stupid chickens," I fuss at them. "You're going to get eaten and then you'll be sorry."
   I saw the smallest Barred Rock out this morning almost as soon as we opened the coop. I ignored her until I went out at lunch to check their feed. Another chicken was out and I caught her and dropped her back in. The other was nowhere to be found. Usually, she stays around the perimeter of the yard, sticking close to the other hens or perhaps taunting them with her freedom. I didn't see her anywhere.
  I walked around the long outer fence, looking under my grapevines and the 30-foot pines. I looked for feathers. I looked in the sky to see if an eagle was around. I looked accusingly at the Amish neighbors' annoying, yappy dog for blood or feathers. No sign of her. Despite my prior scolding, I was sorry. She was proving to be the best layer so far and she was awfully pretty.
   As I headed inside, hoping she would make her way to the coop as dark approached, I heard some gentle clucking. I walked back to the coop then heard a hen talking behind me. After a few minutes I found her, tucked away cozily in my herb garden beneath some lavender and rose bushes. She had made a nice little nest for herself and there were two eggs.
   For now, I left her outside, safe in her cozy nest. She has endeared herself to me a bit. I think she needs a name. Any suggestions?