Today, I want to talk about chickens. How clever are those little buggers?!
When I invaded the farm in 2019, I acquired a few chickens from the previous owners. I think they left them because they didn’t have space in their car, not because they wanted to give me anything. I immediately set about building them a palace, complete with furnishings. They transitioned from chicken status to pet status in just one day.
Since then, my chicken collection has grown. I simply love them. The added bonus is that they provide us with beautiful, big eggs when they feel like it. And when they don’t feel like laying, it’s okay too. They live out their lives naturally and are mourned in a suitable fashion. Nobody gets eaten. That’s not our style.
On impulse, I have purchased many chickens that would have otherwise met their end, and in return, they have added a lot of charm to the farm by being given a second chance at life.
I love observing the interactions in the yard between all the hens. Until recently, there were no roosters in the yard, only girls. Then, my friend Pretty Mariette brought me a hen with a brood of chicks that had just showed up at her doorstep. Since she resides in town, I was gifted this feathered family.
Among the chicks were two little cockerels. Now, my entire yard consists of hens, and I looked at the two of them and thought, “How much trouble can they be?” So, they stayed.
They quickly grew into two stunning adults… Bantams, to be precise, so rather small.
My new human neighbors have these gorgeous HUGE roosters that strut their stuff, looking like Virgin Active weightlifters. I am enthralled by them, from a distance of course; no close contact and definitely no intention of acquiring any.
However, my neighbor mistook my admiration for his roosters as a hint, and one day he presented me with this HUGE but very frightened rooster as a gift. So Mr. White entered our lives. He was the only white chicken in the yard, as all the others were brown. The poor fellow seemed quite sad for a while, all out of sorts because of the color barrier, or so I thought. Not only that, but the two cheeky Bantams were constantly picking fights with him, making him even more sad and isolated.
I can’t have anything unhappy in the yard, let alone a chicken, so I went and bought him ten white wives, all of his size. Everyone was a little out of sorts with this invasion of white, but soon Mr. White found himself with all the Mrs. Whites, the Bantams were with the Bantams, and the Mrs. Browns were content keeping to themselves. There’s nothing wrong with sticking to your own, so I hoped the status quo would soon be restored once again. Alas, Mr. White was still being bullied by the two cheeky little fellows, but he is a ladies’ man and loves his girls, so that helped a little. It eased the pain of settling in.
Today, I noticed a shift in power. Mr. White has finally realized that he is twice the rooster one of those Bantams wishes it could be. He has taken control of the yard. He puffs himself up and decides who gets to eat when and where, and everybody falls in line.
It’s amazing how they sort themselves out. I love watching them. I love the way they run with their pantaloon-like leg feathers and how they come into the house when the food isn’t delivered on time. Sometimes they squawk as if someone is dying, and other times they squawk when they lay an egg. There is a lot of squawking going on in the yard, and it took me a long time to get used to their shrill voices.
I could actually watch them the whole day and write an entire book about their daily exploits.
Every evening, we follow a little ritual in the yard. Fresh veggies are chopped up and ready for serving. I have a waiting audience, as chickens are very clever. They can actually tell time, I kid you not. They wait until I bring out the tray laden with bite-sized chunks of deliciousness, and then they gather their feathers and come running! This has to be the best motivation by far to continue being a chicken slave. Come hell or high water, vegetables for the chickens are always the first thing on the weekly shopping list because I wouldn’t want to disappoint them.
Their sleeping quarters have recently undergone an upgrade. They now have hanging baskets and a bookshelf, and I am considering installing an infrared light for next winter.
Who would have thought that chickens could bring such delight? They are certainly a source of joy for the soul, but never a meal for the plate. Our chickens are our friends.
