The Funny Farm: The Lighter Side Of Keeping Chickens

A few months ago I felt weighed down by the volume of sad chicken stories in online groups: injury, illness, neglect and death. Being ‘the glass half full’ kind of person I started looking for lighter tales that made me laugh and I hoped would do the same for my readers.

I put a call out on my Facebook page and asked folks for the humorous side of keeping chickens and, as always, they were more than happy to oblige.

Misty Elmore Swingle

Roosters are supposed to be brave and protect their hens from predators. They are supposed to be the rulers of the roost. Of course, not my rooster. Chewy (formerly Repecka until he cock-a-doodle-dooed), is a true chicken. (Chicken being a complete scaredy cat.) He barely leaves his coop and he has an “every man for himself” attitude. If he ever fertilizes an egg, it will be by complete accident. (Him jumping up from being spooked by a leaf and landing on a hen.)

Erin Harris

I had just come inside from cleaning the duck pools when I saw that my siblings were having ice cream. After grabbing the ice cream, a bowl, and a spoon my sister passed me the chocolate syrup. Half way done with my ice cream, I noticed I spilled some chocolate syrup on my pants. So I did the logical thing, wiping it up with my finger and licking it off. This is when I knew it wasn’t chocolate or anything close.

Gigi Humphrey

We live in an area where we have hawks and other birds of prey. Duke, our rooster at the time, was a very good guard. But he had a secret ally. One day, I came out to find a crow and Duke talking to each other. I started to notice the crow came around a lot. Then I noticed that the crows would chase off hawks in our neighborhood. Though I don’t have a roo anymore, the crows still work with my girls.

Heidi Boyd Christopher

I’ve locked myself in the run, no phone, no one home, had to get creative and find twigs to push through to push latch back off the lock to free the gate.

Debbie Mata

I put fake eggs in the nest box to encourage my hen to start laying. I thought she laid her eggs there and took them in the house.

Jan Jones

I locked myself in my new Amish coop. No phone on me and it was in July in the south. After an hour I finally busted my nest boxes to get out. Then I had to rebuild it.

Tracy Begg

I had flown into Las Vegas and filled in the customs form leaving one question blank. It asked if I had been on a farm recently. When I went through customs I explained to the lady that I wasn’t sure if I should check that I had or not. I told her that I didn’t live on a farm but had pet chickens. She leaned over the counter and looked at the floor and asked “where”? Maybe I should have said backyard chickens. Who brings their chickens to Las Vegas with them?

Bonnie Spencer

A couple of times I’ve picked up eggs and stuck them in my jacket pocket then when I get to work stick my hands in my pocket and oh no! One time one broke in there. A couple of times they’ve been safe until I get home.

Jillian Cosby-Kelly

When I was a kid my mom would bring me for horse riding lessons and I loved getting eggs from the coop they had on property. One day the big rooster decided I looked sketchy and tried chasing me out of the pen, but instead I ran inside the coop forgetting he also had access. That day I learned about spurs.

Heather Johnson

I’ve accidentally taken eggs to the dentist, and only found them as I made myself comfortable for a root canal.

I’ve also had to change my work pants at the last second when I could feel cold egg white draining down the front of my leg from my pocket.

My son spent half an hour gagging after a week old pullet pooped on me.

Jaime Williams-Messaros

I had my blind Silke mix in the house for first three months after I rescued her and she got gapeworm from her trips outdoors. I had to give her goat wormer and it upset her stomach. She had several accidents on my lap and the smell was atrocious. My husband kept gagging so bad I had to send him outside. I have so many poop stories it isn’t funny because I’m constantly hugging and holding my hens and roos. I was once cleaning and wiped my face with my wrist not realizing there was poop on it. I got inside and washed up my hands but couldn’t figure out why I was continually smelling poop until I looked in the mirror and saw it on my face. I’ve also gotten in the shower at the end of the day and found pine shavings and random feathers in my cleavage. My husband no longer lets me go straight into town with him until I’ve checked myself over for feathers and poop.

Tara Lynn Miller

I recently had one baby left out of a handful I got from a farm store and was basically raising her myself. She slept with me and one morning after I got up I kept smelling the most awful rotten smelling chicken sh*t and could not figure out where it was coming from till I realized that baby had pooped in my hair.

I love how when we first get chickens, it’s like “oh I got poo on me, gross” and we go running for the shower and the sanitizer, but two years in you just wipe your hand on your jeans and think I’ll take a shower tonight, no big deal.

Karissa VanCamp-Smith

It finally happened to me. Let me paint you a picture:

This tired mom of six boys, four of which are infants – yes, quadruplets – finally had a nice long hot shower. I was loving every second of my husband being on baby duty so I stayed in my towel to roast myself around our first fire of the year. That towel quickly turned into a cape as I transformed into the superhero chicken mama I am as I bolted out of my house naked as the day I was born. Flailing around and screaming like a banshee to save my sweet babies from the fox that was stalking them.

The universe knows how to have some jokes because my parents, who live next door to us, were out on their deck at the exact time the last bit of my pride and modesty evaporated into thin air. I still can’t look my dad in the eyes. But I saved my chickens, dammit.

Thanks to everyone who shared their stories and helped brighten our day. Sorry, but Chick isn’t a real magazine, but art from a calendar by Sara Chaparro, a Seattle-based freelance graphic designer, artist/crafter and animal lover who plans to have a farm sanctuary one day.

If you’d like to share a happy ending story/photo or something that will make us laugh feel free to drop me a line by using the ‘contact’ button on my homepage.