A dear Canadian farmer friend who keeps me updated with the current events of the chicken world touched base today. He and I were wannabe -chicken -farmer -dreamers years back and we both have made our dreams of chicken poop and blood orange egg yolks a reality. His dream expanded far wider than mine and he is going to town on his farm in Canada. His dream is his livelihood. Mine is my hobby.
He sent me the following story of a young sailor guy who is sailing the world with a hen. The sailor desired an animal companion rather than a human. Gee, I wonder why. He settled on a hen. It is my guess you cannot imagine why in the world he would choose a chicken for a sailing mate.
Please open link to take a gander at his priceless photos. Precious.
It is my opinion that chickens get a bad rap. They are stupid animals they say. Well…I beg to differererer……Its all relative. What would you expect given their heads are the size of a cherry tomato? Of course, we cannot compare their intellect with ours. Is that what those people are doing? Can we please look at the rest of their character attributes? Intellect ain’t all there is, sista.
My chickens are gentle. They chat with me when I enter their house. And they ALL have a little to add to the conversation. Personalities vary just like ours. They know when I am coming to treat them and when I’m not coming to treat. They wait patiently for me to feed all the other animals.
They walk quietly in single file line to their treating ground. I could learn a thing or two from our “stupid” chickens.
Chickens live in the moment. They are honest about their moment.
They hoot and howl their eggs out. These guys work HARD for your Saturday morning omelet.
They quibble and squabble away their differences. No harm. No foul. No lasting resentments. Unless of course there is a weakling lurking about. I never said they were perfect. Maybe that’s why the sailing guy chose only one hen to sail instead of a buddy system.
As with any being, if you love them, they can in turn love back. If you give them room to grow, they will flourish. If you keep the creature locked in a cage physically, mentally or emotionally where they can’t stand on their little legs, they can not blossom. They will lack the love and luster.
Every night after dinner, we abandoned the dirty dishes and run to the swing to watch the chicken show. There must be some redeeming qualities in these little guys if we invest our evening entertainment hours in avian performances. Maybe I have the intellect problem. Not the chickens. I’ll have to think about that. Or not.
They require no showers before bed time. No teeth brushing. They march right on to their school bus (roost) at dusk without being asked and lights out. I do need to train them to shut lights.
Could I go boating with one of my hens? Oh yes. If I liked boats. Can I take her on a jaunt around the world in my pickup? I’d love to.
Long live the hen.