My little flock started out as one stray OEG hen that decided to roost in our garage one night. We found out later that it was our neighbor's, and that he had let her go to fend for herself when the rest of his chickens (about twenty hens) were killed by some critter that had gotten into their coop.
Now, I didn't earn the nickname "Ellie Mae" for nothing... by then I already had two cats and a couple parakeets, and I was constantly reading up about every kind of bird, mammal, reptile, and amphibian and convincing myself that I needed one of everything. I had asked for chickens every year in the spring, batting the "puppy-dog" eyes to my parents as I held the baby chicks at the feed store. The name "Lucy" popped up ("I Love Lucy" was my mom's favorite show) and it fit perfectly because the hen was wheaton colored, and therefore had a red-head like the TV star.
So once Lucy was moved in to the newly built coop my wonderful father built, I decided, well, one lonely hen can't possibly be happy, could she? And one smallish egg a day couldn't possibly be enough. My mom found a local breeder who sold us two barred rock hens for 5 bucks apiece.
These two hens were certainly not quiet and sweet like little Lucy. They were bossy, greedy and overall quiet scrappy. Well, since we were going with the theme of famous TV/movie characters, they had to be called Thelma and Louise. Thelma quickly established herself as the matriarch, giving a firm peck to anyone who got out of line.
Sometime later, I found myself with a wonderful lady with a farm, where I helped out when her mother was ill. Today, we have animal therapy for handicapped people. Anyway, one year she hatched out several random chicks from her rather large and assorted flock. One of the babies was a white Cochin bantam hen. My "adopted mother", as the woman soon came to be known, gave me the little bantam as a gift for my help. I took her home and bathed her and petted her and played with her, and soon she was following my parents and I around the yard as if we were the mother hen! She must have been about three months old then. She was quite the talkative baby; constantly peeping her friendly, sometimes coo-like song. Originally, her name was Ethel (Lucy's friend in the TV show) but "Peepers" seemed to be a much better fitting name.
Of course, Lucy, the gentle hen who went broody every year, took Lil Peeps under her wing. They kept up this arrangement, even in the following spring when both decided to go broody. This year, my adopted mother gave me five (hopefully!) fertile eggs, under the condition that the babies be given back to the farm. Those two determined hens sat on those eggs together the whole three weeks. Finally, three fuzzy little babies were trailing along behind the proud mothers as they showed them everything that had to do with being a chicken.
The happy little family was only a week old when a terrible tragedy happened--a couple neighborhood dogs came along and killed poor Lucy. I like to think that she sacrificed herself so her babies could have a chance, but, what do I know.
Peepers proved herself to be an excellent mother; with her thick, downy cochin feathers, she kept everyone warm and insulated at night until one day, she had had enough. Several firm pecks apiece and those teenaged-chickens figured it out.
Now what? We couldn't get rid of the babies. We had already lost Lucy, and what if some other tragedy occurred? My parents finally agreed to let me keep the two roosters and one hen. Well, maybe one rooster has to go...
As of currently, my little flock is made up of two barred rocks, a cochin banty, a silkie/cochin cross cockerel, a maran cockerel, and a sumatra/ silkie cross hen. I can't wait for next spring, when I can save Peepers' little eggs so that she can hatch some of her own biological chicks. Just a few, though, maybe three, or five, or twelve...
Wait, why do I need that many? Dang it, chicken math...
