Tag Archives: Fun with Animals

Hug A Chicken!

If you’ve been reading my blog on a regular basis, you know that I have a new flock of birds which have been maturing and becoming egg laying miracles. They have gotten to know me and I’ve gotten to know them.

These  girls, are so affectionate and responsive. They just enjoy company and really like to sit and talk. Sometimes they talk the whole time you are sitting with them and others just sit passively on your lap and fall asleep, or rest. Then there’s “Little Owl”.I could actually write a book about Little Owl. She’s really funny. As a baby, when she’d find me sitting, she’d hop on my knee and dive under my armpit with her head and just sort of stay there, with her rump end exposed. It was always so darn funny. I never stopped her because she was so determined to do it. If I had on my jacket she’d just hop on my knee and dive right inside my coat flap, settle down and nap. Even now, I shake my head and laugh at the memory.

Little Owl

Little Owl

What Owl did, I never really understood. One day I happened on a video of a Mom hen and her group of babies. They were all happily pecking in the dirt around her, and when they saw something which startled them, they ran headlong into the Mom’s breast feathers found a way under and hid. Some even found a way under the wings and rump. One little Biddy didn’t make it under so far and all that you saw of her was a Rump poking out from under the hens wing. I started laughing so hard. That was exactly what Little Owl did! Oh God! I really was a Chicken Mom.

Little Owl is a big girl now, and she is one of my really good layers. She’s an Ameraucana who lays light aqua eggs. I always sort of dreaded her quitting the actions she use to do. They were so genuine and real that I didn’t want her to stop. I knew she saw me as “Mom” and she was coming to me for a rest and relaxation she couldn’t get otherwise.

I never had to worry about that. Little Owl still does the “Dive”. Here’s a photo of her heading for happy Lap Time.

Little Owl Running for Happy Lap time

Little Owl Running for Happy Lap time

And… Here’s the Dive!  I think she’s loves it as much as I do…

owl-dive

Happy Lap Time!

Have you Hugged Your Chicken Today? 🙂

Hug A Chicken!

 

♥Chicken Mom♥

Peep Peep

When the little fluffy bits of wiggling, scampering, peeping down arrived in baby form, my phone rang. It was the post office. The babies arrived in the mail!! Yea!

I flew down to the post office in the closest pants I could find. It was 7:00 in the morning! It was exciting! It was terrifying…

I had no clue how this whole thing would turn out. I didn’t know how they would turn out. I knew what breed, yes, but I didn’t know if they would be nice birds or mean birds.  Blah, blah, blah… (Insert worried panic-stricken face here). I was freaking out.

After raising other older biddies. I’m well aware of the potential for  different personalities. You can end up with chickens from hell, and rue the day you ever embarked on raising any, or you can get some really sweet birds. Still, I had ordered 14 and ended up with 15. I guess that extra chick was for luck. They added her to the order for the extra body heat at no charge. Biddies can get cold traveling and need each other to maintain a constant temperature.  Either way, I was in deep and now no matter what transpired I was a surrogate Mother to 15 – 24 hour old baby peeps. God Help Me.  God Help my bathroom…

Yeah… Ya see, I didn’t think this out very well. They ended up in the guest bathtub. Unceremoniously deposited on some utility towels and given food and water. Oh Gezz! They  need heat! I ran around thinking, thinking, looking, looking… Oh Thank God! A reptile light!  – Don’t laugh. I was desperate! Then I positioned an expansion rod over them and hung the light. Whew!  They were fine and happily pecking bouncing and drinking. Amazing! That was such a long flight over and I worried about them getting here dehydrated or not making it at all.  All worries for nothing. They were bright-eyed and happily being chickens.babychickens3

I had them warm and happy, and now I was happy. Then, one of the little babies fell face forward into a pile of straw, all stretched out like she’d been shot with a cannon. Just sort of splayed like a dressed bird for dinner. Did she die?  I almost panicked. One after another they all started falling over. Just like the light clicked off on their energy field and they fell in a flat faced “chicken down”! position. I didn’t like this… My heart was racing. I’d never had little babies before. Usually the birds are a few weeks old when I bought them.  When the first little hen stretched with a big long leg stretch, I realized they were just tired and fell over from exhaustion; like my kids would after a long day playing. Sometimes the kids didn’t even get to the bed, but would land on the floor and pass out. Whatever, I didn’t care as long as they were healthy and just napping. I checked.  Yes, all breathing!

I didn’t have any sort of water container for them either. What was I thinking? I don’t know. Flying dumbly? Likely. I did figure out a make-shift one to put their drinking water in though. Here’s my idea. The cup kept them from falling into it.

waterer

That’s Georgia standing in the dish. She’s an Australorp.

So, even as ill-prepared I was for biddies, they still did just fine.  I didn’t know anything about raising biddies, especially not the tiny ones.

I was in love…

The babies got checked all day long and I woke in the night to look in on them. They saw me and usually roused and were happy to hear me talk to them or to be picked up.

They stayed in the tub until they were 4 weeks old. Now that was fun… (not). If I do this again I will have a proper brooder pen with heat lamps outside (I think). It was really nice getting to know them and learn their personalities. I don’t think if they had been outside, I’d have had nearly the time to know them like I do.

They are now 7 months old and laying. Most of them have names befitting their personality. I think most of them still identify myself as Mom, because they are especially attentive and most are pretty affectionate. I have a couple turd-heads who just don’t want to be mucked with. Fine with me… I have lots of snuggles for the ones who want to be snuggled with!

Here are a few of them at 5 weeks. They have a wonderful outside biddy yard.

Below is Georgia Photo-Bombing the snapshot!

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Happily hopping on the little roost in the biddy yard.

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I need to post some of their adult photos and will do that another day!

Enjoy your chickens!!

The Chicken Mom

Hay Maker

Being as we eat chickens for dinner, I’m not one to get overly squeamish at the thought of raising things which I might potentially eat one day. However, I do love my girls a lot and the action of having to actually EAT one would just be almost impossible.

I use to tease my Mother about how she was about eating the hog meat we had in the freezer.

Penitence was a Duroc Hog (Mom said) which my brother brought home as a   cute little pink wiggly thing he saw on the side of a highway. After about a year that pig grew into a huge hog. None of us saw that one coming until way later; when she almost tore down a full barn with her rooting and pushing timbers to grub up some morsel of chow hidden in a dark spot. She was a huge hog. She would have easily won a 4-H Blue Ribbon for the most body weight and beauty.

pig

Penitence had a love for my brother. Of course, SHE was a girl. She absolutely hated anyone else, and tolerated Mom. Frequently Mom fed her and brought goodies, so she was spared the wrath of Penny. No one else dared enter the “dead zone” with her.  You know, that space just beyond the gate into the corral. Yeah; don’t go there.  Bad. Bad, idea. Penitence was easily a 1200 lb beauty. A one hog demolitions expert, with a bad temper.

On the last morning Penny would breathe, Mom had just brought her a bucket of tasty goodies from the house for her. Mark was already outside giving her the morning feed. They stood there talking a bit leaning on the gate rails. Penny stood waiting on the goodies from Mom. She opened the gate to take in the bucket and pour them in Penny’s pan.

No one is really sure what happened next, except Mom had to run out very fast to escape Penny’s charge. She was determined to hurt someone today, and it better not be my Mother.

You’d have to know Mark to really appreciate the real significance of his next actions.

After making sure Mom was alright, he headed for the house, grabbed the hunting riffle and loaded it meticulously with four bullets. The 44 was enough to stop a bull moose, it took three shots to kill Penny. She was not stopping. Not even with a bullet through the head.

After that Mark was sullen. We just didn’t kill our animals. Not even for food. But No One, and I mean NO ONE hurt Mom. That was the line.

Now to lighten up a bit…  How does one slaughter a 1200 pound hog without a proper place?  They are easily 10 feet long. What the hell can dead-lift, over a tree limb, a 1200 lb hanging weight hog?  Oh god… What now?

I really could continue this mental exercise with explaining how Penitence (true to her name) ripped up a Doge Pick-Up-Truck’s transmission; broke several ropes and almost kill another guy on the ground “helping” when her body fell from the tree. Yea, not fun.

The resulting days festivities yielded 800 pounds of butchered hog. Thankfully, you could take farm raised meat to the butcher then and they’d do the cutting and wrapping for you.

Mom could eat none of Penny’s meat. She said, “It just gets bigger and bigger the more I chew”.  Poor Mom.  I took it off her hands… Eating Penny brought me no moral dilemma, and her pork steaks were the size of dinner plates.

Thank You Penny.

Yea, this had nothing to do with chickens, did it? (Laughing Loudly)…

Dyslexic Roosters

When I walk out the door in the morning, I am assaulted with the neighborhood roosters and their loud greetings of the new day. Our neighborhood is more or less rural-suburbia, with folks having one or two acre lots. On those lots they can have chickens or horses or cows, and god knows what else…  I guess most of my neighbors have chickens and choose to keep roosters. I on the other hand, I choose to not have roosters. They are beautiful, I admire them, and that’s where the attraction stops; and after concerned painstaking effort on my part to choose chicks which were hopefully female, I ended up with FIVE beautiful Roosters and Nine hens. I was awaken one morning with a horrific squalling, squealing, and hooting weirdness coming from the direction of the chicken yard. Stumbling to the door I peered outside in that general area and proudly attempting to crow was one of the new pullets. You could hear him trying to form a crow but the noise was a pitiful example of crowing. Continue this progressive morning scenario for two weeks: The family who lives the next road over must have several roosters, and I watch the little gray one I have listen closely as they one after the other, crow with a vengeance. Then he begins to attempt a mimic of their crowing. Except his crow was totally backwards… I was hoping and praying this was just an overly testosterone laden female crowing (they occasionally will attempt to mimic). The days following however, proved me wrong. Dayam!  The little Gray Roo pullet who is attempting to crow is a Blue Ameraucana (Not really blue). Here’s a photo of a Blue Pullet.

backyardchickens
http://www.backyardchickens.com / Without their help, I’d never have gotten through my first set of babies. Wonderful site! I highly recommend it.

Most chickens when they crow make a Urt Urt Urt Urrrrrr sound. This little dude hit notes nothing like that. I busted out laughing… Ouuuuu-Urrrrr-Urt-Urt-Urttttt!  Ouuuuu- Urrrrr-Urt-Urt-Urt!  I could see him with a face which said, “No that’s not quite right”!  He kept practicing and practicing, his face contorted with the effort. He even bent his neck sideways trying to squeeze the vocalizations just right.  This kept up for about two weeks. Then suddenly another one popped out with a tentative crow. Oh God…. More Roosters! That week and the week that followed I counted a total of FIVE Roosters! They were promptly packed up and driven back to the breeder who guaranteed that they would be hens. If I ended up with any Roos’ he’d take them back. He was good to his word, but he was really surprised that his method of sexing them had failed so badly. I told him that the Blue Ameraucana crowed backwards.  He figured they just had baby crows and had not quite got the crowing down yet. Then as I stood there talking to him, the Blue let out a healthy, Ouuuuu-Urrrrr-Urt-Urt-Urt! The man turned quickly at watched him let out another Dyslexic Crow and he laughed saying, “Well I’ll be Dang” The little guy does crow backwards!”. Skip (the chicken guy), ended up showing him with the 4H kids.  I wonder how a Dyslexic Rooster fared out with the 4H judging? The Chicken Mama

The Alpha Hen

They say, that Experience is your best teacher. I was never sure who “They” were but, they sure must have been really smart individuals, being as THEY knew so much.  I wonder if they knew you have to be a chicken to have chickens? I did not!

When we first got our birds a few years ago, I was so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, and didn’t know anything. Little by little I learned, but it did take time and thankfully we didn’t lose any birds in that process. Well, not many…

This brings me to odd chicken behavior, and learning about the Alpha Hens. The term “Old Hen” usually isn’t used in a complimentary way, and used to describe some mean acting, old woman, who seems to have it in for others in her area. That’s the Alpha Hen mentality.

Alpha hens keep the flock in order, more or less. Their Dominate behavior assures them the boss role in the in the flock; Which, isn’t always a bad thing. We all need a leader. Some chickens, while none are really stupid, (except Chris, my stupid Orpington) do behave in such a way that you know they aren’t firing on all cylinders.  Sort of like they got baked in the heat lamp…  (fried Yep, that’s Chris).

I’m a hands on person with all of my animals. If they are low, then I go down to their level when I am interacting with them. Of course, they are touched and cuddled and schmooze’d over as much as I can muster. Eventually, I win over most of the hens. Well, all except the Alphas. They glare at you with their eye-balls in total disdain, dance around fluff-dancing and looking generally pouty and almost menacing (If it weren’t so darned funny looking). You know that look of hate… (I’m not sure it’s much different with People).

This ambivalent behavior had to stop. How I go about this is a tad lengthy but bear with me. It’s sort of funny, if you work with the visuals I’m going to send you.

Maw- Velociraptor – Shrugs

Those are the three birds which seem to keep control and organize the flock. None of those chickens are the “touchy Feely” types. If you bug them they peck you; bow up at you, or down right chase you. Well, not me, but others… With kids around, this behavior wasn’t acceptable.

I learned early on that chickens have what I call a “tick”. This tick reaction is to hunker down when they are suddenly approached by a Dom-Hen or Rooster who is getting ready to mount them for a ride. Hens do that as much as a rooster, but it’s not for procreation, as is the rooster. When a hen does it, it is stating who is boss. It’s also a big show for all to see, clarifying the hen-dominance game.  Sort of like a dog humps another dog of the same gender. It’s their way of saying, ‘I’m Bigger Meaner, and I’m Boss’!

Along with the hunker-tick I learned, I also learned other body postures which defined the visual threat to other chickens. The shoulders bowed up around the neck, coupled with a deep stare at the perpetrator, which was surly followed by an all out fight. I learned how to do that one too.

After I learned a few more ways chickens use dominance stances and behaviors, I figured it was time to assume the ALPHA HEN role.

Maw didn’t see me come up behind her as she was getting ready to peck the mess out of another submissive hen. I stomped the ground behind her and she hunkered down suddenly. I took that time to push (firmly but not hard) on her back and do the Hen Mount. When I was sure she was in submission, I let her up. This messed with her head so badly she didn’t mess with anyone else that day. She saw me coming and moved right over, instead of giving me the EYE.

I have an area called The Outback. It is the place where hens go who are ill-behaved or just not acting right.

Maw started to chase and peck at one of my  Ameraucana hens, and this mess kept up all day. Finally, I’d had enough of her mean-spirited Dom-Hen behavior, and went to the chicken yard (I can see the whole chicken yard from my living room).

When I got there I went right to Maw who instantly knew her ass was grass. She ran. I ran. she lost. Grabbing her hump of a tail nub to stop her,  I put her in The Outback.

The Outback is punishment enough really. Those chickens get fed last. They don’t get the best of the goodies, get to interact with me, or other hens, and they don’t have as nice of a coop. To make it all much worse, when the other girls get to go play in the yard, and chase bugs, they are stuck in, Chicken Prison.

You’d think this is the end of the Dom-Hen activity huh?  Nope… I wish!  With Maw locked up and out-of-the-way, Velociraptor and Shrugs took over the chicken yard.

Velociaptor is a Black Sex-Links hen, with a perpetually  mean glare and long nails. Shrugs, is a Barred Rock Hen who looks like she’s a thug on a street corner with her neck all shrunken between two hunched shoulders, just aching for a fight. Which is why I call her “Shrugs”. Maw may have had some redeemable quality, but these two are both bitches (Sorry, but it’s true).

In two days they were both in the Outback with Maw.

After their removal the flock seemed to adjust and stop being so nervous and worried acting. No more fights broke out.

Every time I went to feed the Outback girls, I’d pause just long enough to remind them, I’m Lord and Master. They were not allowed to crowd me when I was feeding, and I took a rake to keep them back while I fed. Just seeing the rake reminded them, I’d use it. Then I stood there, not letting them come any closer. When they backed down, I took my rake and left.  Every so often I’d snatch a hen up and just stick her under my armpit. Carry her around while the others stared in disbelief and backed away. I’d kill time just keeping her there, being submissive. It worked wonders! After a week or so of that crap, they figured it was better to hunker down and take a mount than to be stuck under an armpit. Most of them hunkered down when I’d walk too close. The Outback is a pretty nice size enclosure. They could run, but they are too stubborn. They eventually learn to keep away from my feet and keep clear when I feed. They know I won’t hurt them but the degrading mount & carry is just more than they can deal with so they submit to my Alpha Hen Status. I am QUEEN!

So, with my Alpha Hen Queen Status established, I let them out. This took about a month.

They are so much more at peace with the others. They still hunker down when they sense I am suddenly too near to them, but when they do that now, I just bend down and pick them up gently and pet them and talk to them. Then I put them down and walk away.

This method will help the dominant chickens to see themselves as equals to the other hen, and me as their Boss (LOL QUEEN!).

My Subjects!  I am QUEEN!chicken-subjects

Tropical Storm Debbie

It’s odd that we have had two back to back storms here….  I have officially quit praying for rain for Florida; now onto Colorado, but that’s another story.

I took some of the funniest video of my silly girls playing in the water as it gathered in the lower half of the chicken enclosure, which is linked at the bottom of this page.

The coop is 50 ft long and 20 ft wide. It was just hilarious watching them explore the storm water alone. I went out to see what in the world could be so interesting in the pen, I saw a foot of standing water on the low half of the pen! Oh my…. Now when it quits raining enough for my camera…

We had to have had some significant rain to fill that low water table up again. Trust me, we did have significant rain. It rained for 5 solid says with only a small break on June 25th for my granddaughters birthday party. The heavens opened back up and blesses us with more; after everyone went home. Then it rained for 2 more days.

My prayer was that we would get enough rain to bring the natural water table back up. I could feel my trees aching for water. I know that sounds silly, but I could feel it. They needed some real rain, and not the afternoon’s occasional drizzle. Some real Honest Too Goodness RAIN! – OK God! So it didn’t have to do all that catching up in one week. Remind me to end prayers with a small footnote for now on, eh?

Anyhow, when I went into the chicken yard to check out the damage from 20 hours of torrential rain (only one day’s worth), I saw they were goofing off in the water below the halfway mark in the area. Some of them were chest deep in the water. I have no idea if other people’s chickens do this! Maybe mine are just a weird, warped extension of myself… I love water. They love water ( it appears).

Finally the rain stopped. Camera in hand I can see the water has receded some. When I walked down into that area to check it out the girls were right behind me. I mean 28 intense little faces all following me there. I felt like the Pied Piper of Chickens! Then most of them ventured into the water even more. It was like “OK, Mom is here, it’s alright to play now”.

I wish I’d been able to get photos earlier but the rain would not stop and I didn’t want to drown my camera. The rain-soaked in the ground quickly.

Goodness! Have I mentioned how horrible dirt with wet chicken poop and chicken feed smells? Ick…. Good thing I have had years of practice smelling disgusting things (diapers for one).

Here’s the video. Enjoy! 🙂    (Its a Youtube video)  http://youtu.be/tt1Cxat3iOM

Things You Learn Later

…I feel like a rotten Chicken Mommy right now. For several weeks my girls have taken turns with the dreaded ‘sour crop’. For those who don’t know that term, it’s fairly common but even worse when you don’t feed properly; which I didn’t. Mostly, it is caused from the birds going to bed with a very – full crop and it not emptying properly through the night. Digestion slows at night-time, so if they eat a big hearty meal prior to bed, it can encourage spoilage in the crop and they get the sour crop.

Lemme tell you, it is no fun. I imagine it’s no fun for the birds either. They sort of swish and gurgle as they walk, and the breath smells foul. You can hear the fluid in the crop swishing and they gurgle; which sounds like blowing air bubble noise under water.  It’s pretty disgusting sounding.

Then there’s the bottom end of the business. The sick hen will get poop matted in the feathers and make a big ole’ drippy mess. It needs washed off. Sorry… No short cut here.

I’d been watching one of the Bard Rock hens, who was not acting quite right; for about three days. She was listless and nodded a lot, snoozing. Not like her at all. Her normal feisty temperament was clearly off. While not being very friendly, she was still a bright happy bird. Now she was pretty blah and I easily caught her.

I stuck the bird under my armpit backwards and sprayed the hose at her business end. The water was warm from the sun and it was a very long hose. Otherwise, I’d suggest you use warm water, dish pan and an expendable rag. Do this outside the pen away from the other hens, so no cross-contamination occurs. They don’t really seem to mind the process too much. The warm water actually relaxes them a lot.

She then went into the “Out Back”; which is what I call the separation pen. Suspicious acting birds go there.  Given clean bottom end, water and food and bedding, she was ready to get better.  Of course she didn’t eat and she wasn’t exactly happy about anything.  I took the food out of the pen and began putting a smaller bowl of yogurt and layer mash which had been wet down. I also put in a bowl tiny torn pieces of bread mixed with olive oil. She did peck at that a little at both so I kept those available for her.

I massaged her crop daily checking for the squishy feel and if it was full of   ‘stuff’. I noticed her sling her own head down a few times and what was inside was forced out. I didn’t know a chicken could clear their own crop… It was liquid. It smelled pretty nasty. OK, it was gross…

For the next three days, the little Bard Rock hen was given liquid yogurt, by syringe; about 3 ml every morning. By the third day she actually fed herself the yogurt when I presented it to her. Whew, much better!

She’s been puny for about five days now, but she’s on the mend and is actually eating her layer mash/yogurt mixture alone now.

Did you notice the bird in something ?  I had to stick her in the sleeve of a denim shirt. The only thing poking out was her neck and head. But, it kept her peaceful and she didn’t struggle. Actually, I was amazed at how calm she was during the whole process. When you work with a hen one-on-one, they tend to understand you are trying to help them. I’m not sure why, but they do seem to have a sense of knowing, which I never would have attached to a chicken; before.

I highly recommend this if you are doing the doctoring alone, without anyone to secure the bird.

This morning she seems way better and is eating whatever gets poked at her. We are going slowly at the reintroduction of foods. Right now the cultured yogurt and mash seem to be making her happy.

Her breath no longer stinks and she’s not “leaking” fluid. Her bottom is happy again without the mucky bottom.

So, I’ll end here with saying, this is one big lesson learned and I won’t be over feeding my hens anymore!

And I’ll call this post, – Things You Learn Later

Chicken Fetish

Recently after a barrage of chicken posts about the “girls”, it was suggested I had a “Chicken Fetish”. It went so far as to have recommended to me that I sell Chicken T-Shirts…. They’d say…

OK, all the good-natured ribbing aside; It did cause me to think about this chicken love I have. Even my husband stated that, If I could, I’d bring the girls inside the house! Yes, I protested that comment, but hell, I realized that the man is likely right. Pooh, I hate it when that happens.

Yesterday, I took a break from fixing the chicken fencing to have a sit down spell. Lucy was instantly at my feet making honking noise like a little goose, with her head between my knees. Her face was emphatic. She wants up in my lap. If I don’t grab her and put her there she’s going to make all sorts of contortions climbing up my leg, and I’d  prefer not to have those climbing marks left behind.

Bending over to get the ten pound Buff Orpington we call “Lucy”, I was stared down by a four pound Blue Ameraucana, Victoria, who was also putting her demand in for butt time, (Sitting down with Mommy). The girls have a defined pecking order, I give them all separate times so they don’t argue over the sanctity of the lap, or argue later on.

Lucy is settled down and hunkered down on my thigh, viewing from her majestic post the underlings of the chicken yard. She is queen and she knows it. “I love Lucy”. The TV show could have been done with a chicken instead of the pretty Red-Headed lady. I wonder how interesting that would have been for non-chicken-love’n people?  Likely, not very, but I am still sitting there, petting Lucy’s nape, scratching her little noggen, thinking about doing a TV show like that, when I look down and view the three faces of love beaming up from the ground, all waiting in line to get some time with Mommy.

The Other faces beaming at me are, Victoria, Elizabeth, Freckles. They love me…  Victoria, likes to be held like a baby, nuzzled and cuddled and kissed. Elizabeth likes the same thing. Her face says, “Just nuzzle me and hug me. I’m good”.  Freckles fidgets and gets nervous until she finds a place for her feet, then she’s noisy and make funny cooing noise, and wants her chin scratched and face kissed. With Lucy, it’s no holds barred.She’s up for most stuff. Ruffle her feathers, scratch her back, kiss her face, nuzzle her neck, rub her comb… She’ll endure anything, as long as she can sit with you.

It’s then I realize how blessed I am to have the adoration of four lovely little hens, who are spoiled rotten. Do I care? No… Of course, I’ve been accused of fostering dependent behavior in my chickens, but honestly, they are just giving back what I offer them, Lots of Love and caring.

I don’t see myself as a “chicken owner”. I think I see myself more as hanging out with my friends and caring for them. They are treated no less than a pet dog or cat of other animal with fur, you’d pet or cuddle. They do respond, and actually, I find them quite smart. The term, “Dumb Cluck” was evidently coined by a non-chicken-love’n person.

So, do I have a “Chicken Fetish”? Yes, Yes I do….