I live in the mountains outside San Diego, California in a place called Deerhorn Valley on 8 acres. I grew up in another valley not far from here. My mother was born and raised in Nebraska on a farm and we always heard about life on the farm and gathering eggs before going to school so having chickens was not a leap for me. I had my first chickens about 25 years ago -- started with chicks and was given a flock with a rooster when a friend moved. Those chickens were for eggs and just chickens -- did not continue along that path. A couple years back I decided to try chickens again. I bought a young pair of Delaware hens who were best friends -- I called them Thelma and Louise. They were the sweetest chickens and would greet me at the door stretching their necks because they were looking for a treat. If I sat in their coop with a piece of bread they would jump up and sit beside me. After they had laid an egg they squatted when I walked in and let me pick them up and pet them. Who knew chickens could be like dogs? Went out one morning and found Louise dead in the nesting area. I bought a young Buff Orpington and kept her separate from Thelma, but in the same coop, for a couple weeks and finally let them be together. Thelma was very deliberate in her "attack" and it only lasted a few hard pecks. They became friends. After a year or so found Tilly dead in the nest. I know -- weird! I was given a younger pullet - a Red-X I think, named her Ellie, did the same introduction with the same results. Thelma and Ellie are the best of friends -- really make racket if separated -- calling for each other. My husband found a young chicken when he was out motorcycle riding, brought it home in his tank bag and I am in the process of introducing everybody - new chick is Thunder Birdie.