Goldie

I introduced you to Goldie in my last blog. She is my very friendly hen who has attached herself to me. I can't step outside without her coming coming up to me and begging to be held. She also follows me around the yard and ends up underfoot occassionally. She just loves to be held and I have done so for as long as a half an hour and so far have never had her mess on me. She doesn't even mind taking a ride on my Amigo with me.

I think it all started out when she was a chick. We had noticed that one of them was not hand shy and often would come right up to your hand and wait to be picked up. then it would sit in your palm and wait to be petted.

Never having a pet chicken before, we really didn't pay all that much attention to it. But every now and then would take the time to play with this chick.

When she got about this size, she would fly to the top if the half wall to their pen, and step onto your outstreatched finger or hand to be petted. My wife got a big kick out of this and named her Goldie. This became a daily routine whenever my wife entered the coop, and soon others were flying up to the top of the wire fencing and out of the pen, so we had to finish the wall.

From then until the chicks were big enough to roam with the rest of the flock Goldie recieved little if any attention. Once set free to roam she became just another hen. Until about six weeks ago.

One day I was outside just enjoying the cool air after letting the chickens out and taking care of the rabbits, when I felt this tapping on my moccasins. This in itself was nothing new as most of the chickens do so, looking for bits of hay, straw or food that may have dropped on them, or just picking at the laces. (yes I know I said I do everything barefooted, but lately I have succumed to wearing moccasins to keep the build up of poo from between my toes. Must be old age setting in.) But then I felt a weight on my foot and looked down to see one of our Buff Orphingtons perched there looking up at me. I reached down to pet it expecting it to flee like the rest do, but instead she sat down on my foot and started this low clucking noise that I swear was as close to hearing a chicken purr like a cat as it could. I then picked her up into my arms remembering that little chick that my wife had so much fun with, and said her name out loud as I continued to stoke her. That started my new frienship with a chicken. Now it's a daily thing. And she even comes to the call of her name. The rest of the birds look at us like we are both crazy except for the roosters who look threateningly. At first I never hand fed her, until one day when the grandkids came over and I showed off my new pet they wanted to feed her. So now she occaisionally get a few treats.

She has learned to tollerate Bear's big black nose checking her out, and even the cat's presence while I hold her while sitting on the porch swing. And yes even my grandson's heavey handed pettings.

Here she is waiting to be picked up.

And that demanding stare. (you married guy's know this look right)

Finally the tapping on my foot.

And Grace patiently waiting her turn in my lap.



Yes she even follows me out to take care of the "Boys".

All in all, it's kind of fun to have a pet chicken here on the 5 acre farm.