The Viva Vine: vol #2, no #2: March / April 1993
Chicken Companions by Karen Davis, Ph.D.
"Chickens are great companions. If only more people knew how smart and lovable they can be."
As I sit at my desk this morning, a large white rooster and two sturdy brown hens are traipsing
through the grass outside my window. Watching them I agree with chicken keeper Dorothy English of
Illinois who says that "People who just have lawn ornaments are really missing out."
People who know chickens would agree. Some grew up with chickens on farms, others got to know
them in suburban settings. New York attorney Barbara Monroe had never really seen a chicken till
her daughter bought a baby white leghorn rooster from a peddler. To her, "The most amazing thing
about Lucie is the way he's adapted to suburban life," sitting in a car like a person or on the
sofa watching TV with the family. Merry Caplan of Louisiana got a chicken by surprise one day
when a neighbor brought her a fuzzy black baby bird who made a beautiful trilling sound. For a
while Merry didn't know if she had a rooster or a hen. She carried "Charlie" in her pocket,
tucking her into a shoe box at night where "she continued her beautiful song and chirped herself
How did Celeste Albritton of Texas meet Cluck Cluck? "I never dreamed of having a companion
chicken till one day a dog drug this chicken home. She was hurt, so Mom and I took care of her
till she was well. Now she's part of our family." Celeste and Merry both got roosters for their
hens. Cluck Cluck has Chick Chick and Charlie has Chuck, who Merry says, "sits next to her while
she lays her egg and announces the event with a series of cock-a-doodle-doos!"
People with chickens cherish this spirited crow. Barbara Moffit of Oklahoma says her 8-1/2
year old rooster, KoKo, crows in his bedroom. "It's no problem for us -- what would life be
without a rooster's crow to wake up to?"
Roosters also protect the flock. Becky Golden of Maryland remembers how one morning after a
heavy rain blew the chicken house door shut. "Perched atop the fence sat Pepper with his two
hens, Henny and Penny, on either side of him with his wings spread over each for protection."
Recently in Maryland, Pat Lloyd watched a rooster shelter a hen from a cat. She said, "He raised
a wing and the hen dashed under it. With his eyes on the cat they moved sideways toward a spruce
tree where, his wing still over the hen, he made sound at the cat, who finally walked away."
People with companion chickens say such actions show their mixture of hereditary and
spontaneous intelligence at work. Jennifer Raymond of California explains, "Certainly they have a
genetic predisposition, but they also have intelligence rarely nurtured by humans." When it is
nurtured, the results are often surprising. Marion Cleeton of Massachusetts says, "My rooster
Essex let me know when he wanted sunflower seeds by crowing right outside whatever room I was in.
He knew where I was." Dorothy English believes, "By conducting artificial intelligence tests much
is overlooked. One day my bantam cochin hen, Gwen, came clear across the grass fussing and
fussing till I asked her if she wanted to go in the house. Together we set out. She hurried ahead
of me and hurried in when I opened the door. She needed that door opened for her to get to her
cage where she could lay her egg properly, and she knew I could and would do it for her. That is
Many people assume chickens are cowards. Are They? Cindy Pollock of Arizona says, "Absolutely
not. We've got to remember they are small birds, and survival instincts tell them to run most of
the time when faced with danger. Wouldn't you, if you were 18 inches high, with no arms, and
surrounded by a bunch of giant predators?" Cindy recalls how the hen she grew up with drove cats
and dogs from her chicks, and Marion Cleston says her rooster, Essex, will charge anyone who
disturbs or frightens Elizabeth, his mate.
People with companion chickens are struck by their mixture of vulnerability and affection on
one hand and their pride and will on the other. Cindy Pollock tells how her bantam hen, Ferguson,
would sit for hours in her lap, trilling and clucking, and looking up at her with bright dark
shoe-button eyes. "She'd run and scold loudly when she wasn't getting exactly what she wanted,"
Veterinarian Holly Cheever of New York says, "When we pat Rossie, our Rhode Island Red, she
squats down and clucks to herself and fluffs herself up in a pleased, self-important manner."
People are touched by a hen's pride in her eggs and her determination to hatch a brood once she
has a mind to. Dianna Barber says each time her prairie chicken, Shnah, lays an egg in their New
York apartment, "Shnah offers herself for some stroking as a reward." Davida Douglas of Missouri
tells how one of her hens "obviously knew we'd object to her setting in winter, so she hid her
eggs and set on them in the rafters. When the chicks hatched, we heard their peeps and discovered
the hen's secret."
People with chickens report a wide range of personalities. Cindy Pollock says, "No two of my
birds' personalities are alike." Naturally sociable, chickens get along with lots of animals.
Shnah, the prairie chicken, sits on a branch next to the iguana who doesn't seem to mind,
according to Dianna Barber. Chuck the rooster and Nick the cat nap side by side, and Charlie the
hen likes to pull the big dog Lucie's fur. "Lucie will follow Charlie and nudge her to do this,"
Merry Caplan explains. Robin Grimm's bantam hen, Jubilee, who hitchhikes across country with her
inside her jacket, curls up in the belly or ears of Jilleroo, the Australian sheep dog. Robin, an
artist in Alaska, says, "Jubilee will part Jilleroo's fur and nestle in. When I call she pokes
her head out!
People relive precious moments remembering their chickens. Davida Douglas says, "Chicken
Little and Baby seemed to enjoy human companionship as much as being with the other chickens.
They sit on our laps, watch TV with us, and sing along with the pump organ or radio. Chicken
Little especially loved tea time."
The death of a companion chicken brings grief to family members who bury their chickens
lovingly. Robin Grimm buried her bantam road partner, Joy, under a pine tree in a place called
Eagle, for, Robin said, "She had the heart of an eagle." Kay Bushnell says that her chickens
"died of old age and were given tearful burials in flower petal-lined graves in the yard where
they had lived and enjoyed sunning themselves. We loved our chicken relatives."
(Karen Davis is a tireless animal rights advocate, devoting most of her time to the dreadful
plight of today's factory farmed poultry. Her organization, United Poultry Concerns, can be
contacted (with SASE and donation) at P.O. Box 59367, Potomac, MD 20859. Call 301/948-2406.)Good
Folks, Get to know them. Membership is $20/year.
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