I have a chicken. Or, actually, I have a chick. A little Rhode Island Red named Rosie. Rosie doesn't live with me. She is being boarded at the Cottage with three other chicks. You can see a little YouTube video of them and see her sweet little self.
I have wanted chickens for years now. Rick and I used to take a walk through our Los Altos neighborhood and there was one house that always had a few fat chickens peacefully roaming around the front yard. Nothing fenced them in and nothing appeared to bother them. They just happily spent their day picking at bugs in their pretty front yard.
Then a friend of mine was telling me about her childhood pet, a Rhode Island Red with the unfortunate moniker of Lunch. Lunch was an only chick and she dearly loved her people. She would come running as soon as any of them came into the yard and wanted to be held and petted.
She never did live up to her name, I am happy to report.
Doing a little research I've read that Rhode Island Reds are a friendly type of chicken. So when Sara said I could keep a chick at her house I knew that was the type I wanted.
I haven't seen Rosie yet but I am going to go this afternoon and nuzzle her.
Rick and I have been thinking about turning the Goat Palace into a Palais de Poulet. It would require getting rid of Josephine, William, Antoinette and poor little Delilah. When we got them we figured we would have little worker goats that would keep our property clear of brush. The only problem is they are total homebodies and will not leave their little corner of the property.
We shouldn't have made the Goat Palace so comfy. They flat out refuse to go anywhere else and they have totally denuded that one corner so we have to supplement their diet with grain and alfalfa. Which kind of defeats the purpose of having them.
We may have found someone that will take them. A couple that has ten acres, other goats, a couple of llamas and a horse. I would only feel right about getting rid of them if they were going to a better situation. One does have an obligation to ones animals, after all.
So if they do go then we'll put some nesting boxes in the Palace and put a door on it and get a half a dozen chickens. We'll eat as many eggs as we want and I have a friend that goes through 12 dozen eggs a week and I told her she could have the rest.
Or I could set up a little roadside stand and sell them.
Jack Delano for the Farm Security Administration, 1940