The old me felt pretty strongly that chickens were farm animals and not pets. Cats and dogs are pets. Chickens are not pets.
Then, a year and a half ago, I declared that I wanted backyard chickens. Everyone smiled and nodded in mock support, and I didn’t blame them. Even I couldn’t believe what I was saying, but visions of fuzzy chicks, cute coops, and fresh eggs swept me off my feet.
I went into full research mode. I chose the coop and run, investigated different breeds, and obsessed over how to raise chicks. When the big day arrived, my husband and I took our two-year-old daughter to pick out the cutest little chicks you’ve ever seen.
Now, I can’t speak to the science of chicks imprinting on humans, but I can absolutely testify that these seven hens adore our daughter. She’s pretty sweet on them, too. Every day she gallops down the hill to the run where they anxiously await her arrival. While the sight of my husband or I trying to catch one of our chickens could win a funniest video contest, those same hens follow our daughter around the yard like she is their queen. She pets them, holds them, and speaks sweetly to them.
And me? I'm a new woman who loves her furry pets, but now believes that chickens are pets, too. Oh, and I serve an impressive soft-boiled egg on hot buttered toast.
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