SUSAN CALMAN
Once upon a time, she found them terrifying, but now our columnist is hatching a plan to welcome some fancy-looking chickens into her life
Our columnist wants some new feathered friends
Every summer when I was younger, our family rented a cottage at a working farm on the Isle of Arran off the west coast of Scotland. I was very much a city kid and often ill at ease with the ‘exotic’ creatures that lived there, particularly the chickens that roamed free. They were all beaks and claws, and when I was sent to search for fresh eggs in the morning, I would instead hide in the cowshed, preferring the smell of manure to confronting my fears. In fact, there’s a wonderful picture of me, crying and cowering, as a tiny chick wobbles its way towards me. I wouldn’t have looked more frightened if Freddy Krueger with his glove full of knives had just burst out of my wardrobe.
But one of the things that makes human beings so very glorious is our capacity to change. And so, the other day, when I was struggling to focus on my work, I googled ‘pictures of unusual chickens’. I don’t know why; I suppose for the same reason I spent two hours making a friendship bracelet for my cat. It was a fascinating diversion, as I’d never really considered that there were so many types of hens to enjoy. And the more research I did, the more I started to appreciate how amazing these birds were. Studies suggest that they can do basic arithmetic (which is more than I can) and that they’re very social animals with personalities and quirks. Suddenly, instead of having poultry-based nightmares, I started to have fowl dreams.
I could never live the life of a farmer (early starts, hard work, weather), so I assumed that the closest I would get to having chickens would be to comb the internet for more photos. Then, one day, while scrolling through Instagram, I realised I might be able to eggs-plore (sorry) my ambition more easily than I thought. You see, you don’t need to be a farmer to keep hens. Several charities re-home factory chickens so they can live out their lives in luxury. By coincidence, just as I was hatching my plans (I’ll stop now), I became aware that one of my good friends had reached peak chicken before I did. She is living an idyllic life with two rescued feathered friends, building them a custom coop, feeding them porridge in the morning (they love it) and generally being all smug and brilliant. Surely, I, with my adopted cats and sponsored donkeys and bears, would be the perfect person to open a retirement home for Scottish hens?
You might be scoffing at my plans but believe me, chickens are brilliant. If you haven’t seen a Silkie Bantam, you haven’t lived. Imagine Dame Barbara Cartland dressed for a winter wedding and you’ll get the idea. The Frizzle has feathers that curve outwards, making it look not unlike the perm I had in the mid 1980s. And the Sultan? Well, you’ve never seen a more impressive bird in your life. Decorative plumage and foot feathers aplenty give the impression that this chicken would be more at home on the runway in Milan than in Glasgow.
It’s a big step to take but, even if we’re not quite ready to start building our own coop yet, there are other things we can do in the meantime. For example, there are welfare charities that enable you to financially support chickens so they can roam free. That would be a small step towards my goal, and I know talk is cheep (last one) but I’m certain it’ll happen. I’ll have my brood and, instead of being frightened, I’ll skip out into the garden, probably dressed up like someone from Little House On The Prairie, with a basket to collect my eggs. Given their mathematical talents, perhaps they can help with my VAT return? And they’ll add some much-needed glamour to my garden. I’m delighted to say I’m a changed woman, and I have no doubt that having chickens in my life is the most eggs-cellent idea that I have ever had.
Chickens are brilliant. If you haven’t seen a Silkie Bantam, you haven’t lived