The Funny Farm: Tales Of Roosters & Hens

What started out last fall as an occasional post has now turned into a regular feature, The Funny Farm. Another Saturday has rolled around where I offer the spotlight to other chicken keepers who share their humorous stories about the ups and downs of living with our feathered friends.

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Our rooster lives in the garden with his biological mother (middle), hatch mother (tiny Japanese Bantam), and great auntie (left). It’s bad enough that he’s super young and horny, but also really bad at mounting. They listen to him and follow him, but are scared of him at dusk and dawn because he chases them around and makes feathers fly. The only one in any condition to procreate with him is his biological mom. I’m scared he’s going to give his auntie a heart attack and crush his bantam mommy. Okay, I’m done venting because I know there’s not much I can do. – David Tucker

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Ah say, ah mean, ah say, boy, you can’t go ’round that way, or you’ll find yourself on the wrong side of the pie. You got to ease up, or you’ll do yourself a mischief, son. Kids today, ah say, kids today, they got no manners atall. – Cindy Nelson

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My girl Jade had a bald spot on her back and everyone suggested I get a chicken saddle. She does look adorable, but she’s not too impressed and the other girls are scared of her now.

Our rooster has not stopped screaming the alert. Apparently, he likes his girls naked because he is not happy. Hopefully they eventually all calm down because it is not going well so far. – Shana Haber

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This is just all sorts of crazy. Our girl, Pearl, has a new routine of laying eggs in the house. Over the past few days, this chicken has come to our door or windows to make it known that she wants to come inside.  Once I let her in (because you know I do), she jumps in ‘her’ chair, fluffs her blanket and settles down to lay her egg. Once done, she clucks her brains out, walks around, then heads back outside. We have the most high maintenance chicken ever. – Brittany North Fowler

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It has happened, something my husband can’t take back. Our Bell has chosen my husband is her go-to perch. This man says he hates it, but I know secretly he doesn’t. I had sent him a text about dinner and all I got back was “HELP!” I walk into the living room and see her standing on his neck. He was like that for ten minutes before he even said anything. This is the man who was 100% against having her in the house, and said he wasn’t going to do a thing for her.

She loves to snuggle on our couch now. If we are all sitting there she will jump up and hug us. She’ll rest her neck on my daughter’s shoulder when being hugged. – Chelsea Rios

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Everyone wants to buy chickens to get eggs, but they should be forewarned about how their hens will give you faces like this when you go to collect them. After all the time and money you’ve spent feeding them and making sure they’re comfortable and warm. I’m being swamped under the heavy load of working out chicken math. – Rebecca Castillo

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Several times a day I have to pull on compression pants to treat edema in my lower legs and feet. While I do, I have an electric blanket on and use my recliner to lift my legs.

Sometimes I spread a towel across my chest and let Tweedles snuggle with me and go to sleep. Otherwise, Bigfoot, our very polydactyl cat who has around 30 toes, jumps up and wraps himself around my neck and takes a nap.

Today I had BOTH!

I pulled Tweedles up and she was settling in when Biggie jumped up too. Before they would lay mostly side-by-side in an uneasy truce. Today Biggie moved up next to my face and Tweedles struggled to get closer to me than her cat competitor and managed to push him out of the way. She also gave him a couple of gentle warning pecks.

He counter attacked and tried to slide in between us. She squawked and took a different approach and regained the better position.

I interceded and pulled them to where they basically are both sharing me. Biggie placed his head on Tweedle’s back and because he has a tendency to drool, soon her back feathers were soaked with cat spit. As long as I’m petting them both, they get along. Sort of. Spoiled brats. – Chip Kirkpatrick

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Thanks to all those who sharing their stories of keeping chickens. If you’ve got a fun tale you’d like to contribute drop me a line by using the ‘contact’ button on my home page.