About a year ago I lost my home. My husband and I both lost our jobs within a week of each other. It was devastating as we were caring for a few other family members that had lost their livelihoods. When we lost our home we sold everything. Only what we could keep in the truck and still have room to sleep in it stayed. That means that all of our furniture, our clothes, our electronics and our pets. Out of all the stuff that we lost we missed our chickens the most. We had a flock of about 30 or so. Out of that flock there were two that were especially precious. Foghorn and Chickadee.
Foghorn was a rescue, when we got him, he was naked. We didn't know what color he was or even that he was a cochin. All we knew was that he had heart. He fought to outcrow the bigger roosters in the pens. And his crow was so sad. It sounded like a broken squeak toy. We scrounged the change to get him and brought him. He grew out to a beautiful bird. A solid white cochin rooster.
Chickadee was a banty that was so small she slipped out of the chicken wire of the brooder that was at the feed store. She was on my shoe, just sitting there like she belonged there from the beginning. So I bought the little escape artist. (which she never outgrew btw)
We moved away from the town we were in following jobs. It has taken us over a year to gather our lives back together. We finally have a place where we can have chickens again...
This last month my sister showed up to visit and brought with her two of our favorite three. Foghorn and Chickadee, as well as a new third. Turns out that she had bought them back after I moved and cared for them until we had a place to put them. She didn't tell us at all. While she was keeping them they reared a beautiful little roo. We named him Starfire.
The picture of the white cochin is Foghorn. The little banty (that is my hand under her btw) is Chickadee. The last rooster is Starfire their son.