Actually there was no shuffling involved. She was unceremoniously taken out by a small dog visiting our road for only the day, owned by a workman a couple houses down who allowed it to roam free and had no idea what a little killer was his. Randi saw red and tromped up for a 'meaningful discussion' with who turned out to be about 280 lbs. of tattooed muscle, and, if truth be told, a very apologetic, calm human. Money was exchanged. My thinking being if he had to shell out for the dog's transgressions it might help him in future potential hoop-de-doodles, planting the seed of a sort of consciousness if you will. (I SO get those old movies with the farmer bursting out the door armed with a shotgun to chase off any number of predators).
Long story short, be careful what clever names you give your little chickens. And yes, of course, as far as looks go, she was my favorite. Sheesh! Enough with the chickens already!