Last month, we bought four, six-week-old, baby Hyline chickens. When it comes to chicken breeds, it seems that the more prolific egg-layers (which incudes Hylines) tend to also be shorter-lived. In the past, we’ve bought adult hens from commercial egg farms that have already had a couple of years of production behind them, but this time we thought we’d get some young ones in the hope that they’d stick around a little longer. We’re hoping they have a few good years of roaming around our garden and fertilising the soles of our shoes ahead of them. So far, they’re settling in to their new home admirably, are very cute, growing fast and… well, look, only a photo will do them justice, so here you go…
We got them to restock our flock, which has sadly dwindled in recent times. The most recently departed member of the flock was also the oldest and most striking, a Golden Laced Wyandotte, appropriately named Rainbow. Like a rainbow, she didn’t produce much in the way of eggs, but she did make you feel happy every time you laid eyes on her.
As well as Rainbow, four other hens have shuffled their way off this mortal coil in the last few months. One of our fun-time family lockdown activities was to make grave-markers for the various burial sites now dotted around the garden.
After much negotiation (arguing at extreme volume) the kids have decided on names for the new chickens — Emerald, Pearl, Amethyst, and Jade. They’re perhaps a little euphemistic, but they do nicely complement the general naming tone of the established chickens in our flock — Shimmer, Shine, and Blondie.
If you’re a chicken fan, let me know in the comments. Despite their tendency to leave little presents all over the place, they’re fascinating creatures. Sometimes I like to go out in the garden and just watch them, scratching around for food with their inch long talons, snaffling up worms and bugs and lizards with murderous aplomb. I’m reminded that chickens are dinosaurs, and I think to myself, Man, am I ever glad you’re not four metres tall.
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When I drove a truck for the University of British Columbia, one place I used to spend my lunch hours at was the UBC Farm, I’d tell people that I was visiting with my girlfriends, the chickens. 1ne day I reached over the low wire fence towards a chicken and she climbed into my arms!
Funny! She must’ve thought you were cute.