- Sep 13, 2009
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Never knew I loved chickens until one afternoon about 5 years ago. I have a horse farm in South Carolina and have one driveway in and out of the farm. So the day a white pickup truck went zooming out my driveway, I assumed it was someone who had wandered down the wrong road and hightailed it out of there.
I went down to the barn about an hour later to meet our vet and found my dogs enthusiastically investigating a hen and 17 chicks in a box set in the hedges. My vet rolled up to the view of my butt sticking out of the hedge, as I frantically tried to catch the little peepers and dodge Momma Chicken's determined beak. Wiping the tears from his eyes as he choked back his hysterical guffaws, he sputtered, "What the hell are you doing?"
Extracting my scratched, beaked and bedraggled self from the bushes, clutching 3 tiny squirming chicklets to my breast and dodging the inquisitive tongues and noses of my 3 beastly dogs, I glared at him and announced "What does it look like?! I'm catching baby chicks. I've been subjected to a drive-by chicken drop!!"
Of course, they promptly became wonderful pets, with Momma Chicken and her brood adapting quite quickly to baths, blowdrys, bug hunting and Mexican food. (Chickens LOVE refried beans!) I look like the Pied Piper with my flock trailing behind me. One black chick promptly named "Oprah" learned to fly up on my shoulder on command for cheese. She also meets me at the back door in the morning for breakfast and bagels, then hops up on the bed to watch the morning news. Draped across my lap, she gets her belly scratched and helps herself to bits of bagel if I don't feed it to her fast enough.
Now 60 plus chickens later, we can't imagine not having the birds around. Other than not being able to leave the windows down in the truck, they have been nothing but a delight. Momma Chicken has gone to roost with God, but Oprah and about 5 of her siblings are still around. My lovely dogs and cats accepted the new additions without batting an eye. My big dog, Sam, lets Oprah hop on his back and graciously shares his breakfast with hungry hens with nary a growl or snarl.
We've been blessed indeed.
I went down to the barn about an hour later to meet our vet and found my dogs enthusiastically investigating a hen and 17 chicks in a box set in the hedges. My vet rolled up to the view of my butt sticking out of the hedge, as I frantically tried to catch the little peepers and dodge Momma Chicken's determined beak. Wiping the tears from his eyes as he choked back his hysterical guffaws, he sputtered, "What the hell are you doing?"
Extracting my scratched, beaked and bedraggled self from the bushes, clutching 3 tiny squirming chicklets to my breast and dodging the inquisitive tongues and noses of my 3 beastly dogs, I glared at him and announced "What does it look like?! I'm catching baby chicks. I've been subjected to a drive-by chicken drop!!"
Of course, they promptly became wonderful pets, with Momma Chicken and her brood adapting quite quickly to baths, blowdrys, bug hunting and Mexican food. (Chickens LOVE refried beans!) I look like the Pied Piper with my flock trailing behind me. One black chick promptly named "Oprah" learned to fly up on my shoulder on command for cheese. She also meets me at the back door in the morning for breakfast and bagels, then hops up on the bed to watch the morning news. Draped across my lap, she gets her belly scratched and helps herself to bits of bagel if I don't feed it to her fast enough.
Now 60 plus chickens later, we can't imagine not having the birds around. Other than not being able to leave the windows down in the truck, they have been nothing but a delight. Momma Chicken has gone to roost with God, but Oprah and about 5 of her siblings are still around. My lovely dogs and cats accepted the new additions without batting an eye. My big dog, Sam, lets Oprah hop on his back and graciously shares his breakfast with hungry hens with nary a growl or snarl.
We've been blessed indeed.
