Hen Power

We have chickens. Our sons say that the chickens have us. They're likely right, because the chickens have created this blog. Some say "there's a book inside everyone." Not me, I'd answer. Recently I thought -- maybe a blog. There's so much to know about chickens, so much to pass on! So much we didn't know to begin with, so much we are finding out, thanks to blogs!

We cook. Cooks produce kitchen scraps. Chickens eat kitchen scraps. Chickens lay eggs. The new, warm eggs are set in the special chicken bowl with a folded paper towel for cushion. We cook. See how that works?

A few weeks ago, Elizabeth Gliddens wrote a story for the New York Times about raising chickens in the city, and that one of her chickens was stolen. It was probably this article that compelled me to begin the Chicken Coop Cafe blog. Elizabeth describes her view of chickens this way: And what’s not to love? There’s something intrinsically happy about a chicken. The name: a little hiccup in the mouth. The shape: a jaunty upswing of feathers, a grin. The ceaseless bobbing, scratching, pecking. It’s nearly impossible to feel melancholy in the company of chickens. They are a balm for the weary urban soul.

She's right. They are jaunty and so entertaining. Because this is relatively new to us, sometimes in the late afternoon we'll pull up an old lawn chair leaning up against the porch wall and watch our show. Personalities bloom. Talents are revealed. Pecking orders established.

We have five hens, and technically, they are pullets. We started with three (and no, we are not like the crazy cat lady found with 80 cats and a room full of newspapers.) There is a reason for five. We wanted Rhode Island Reds, known for their steady laying. And we didn't want chicks--too much work, although now I know that if you get them as chicks, they are much more like pets. (And, UPS will deliver them!) We were interested in chickens just about ready to begin laying. The little feed store didn't have Reds, but they had three picturesque Minorcas -- two buff and one black. We loved the buffs. We took the black to make the number uneven by design. Having an uneven number means we can never call it quits on our relationship -- who gets the extra chicken?

We returned a few months later and they had two Rhode Island Reds, about three months old. We brought them home and introduced them to the others. And that's when we learned about pecking order.

Chickens are a simple life lesson, and as they teach, I will share.