When I daydreamed about my future farm life I kept spreadsheets and documents outlining, in detail, exactly what animals and vegetables I wanted and why.
I read about particular breeds of chickens who had “lap chicken” personalities. They were known to have great dispositions and be great layers. Even having never seen one of these chickens I was sold on those breeds. Who wouldn’t want a perfectly loving, productive chicken? One of these breeds is Buff Orpingtons. They looked like the epitome of the fluffy butt world and I wanted one.
When I knew I was closing on my property I promptly ordered five chicks, one being a Buff Orpington. My chicks had just arrived yet when a farmer offered to take me to a flea market to get young hens ready to lay. He reasoned that if I got older juveniles I wouldn’t have to wait six months to get my first eggs. Great point.
Off we went to the flea market. I was stoked.
Upon arrival I saw a lot of scared animals mostly crammed into cages and standing in excrement. This totally squashed my excitement. I had a hard time looking at booth after booth of animals in bad conditions, even if it was temporary, which I knew, for many of these animals it was how they were forced to live. I should say there were many people selling who seemed to care about the welfare of their animals, too.
I decided to pick birds from the most cramped cages. This would free up space for those remaining and hopefully give them at least temporary relief. It wasn’t the best reasoning but it was my first market.
I had never held an adult chicken and was afraid to pick them up so Farmer Bradley did the deed. I would point and he would extricate the flapping, screeching birds from their cages and transfer them to mine.
There was one cage where birds were standing on top of one another. It was full of yellow birds. I recognized them immediately as being Buff Orpingtons.
Farmer Bradley surveyed the cage then reached in and plucked out a chubby ball of pissed off feathers. She was snapping and screeching like a pterodactyl. The girl had a lot of fight in her and she wanted blood. I was horrified but didn’t object as he plopped her into my cage.
I had pre-named my “ideal” chickens on my spreadsheets. This pissy Buff Orpington was going to be named “Bria”.
Bria bitched the entire ride home. I can only imagine what the other birds in the carrier with her were thinking. “This chick is CRAZY!”. She made the drive home awkward for everyone. I was determined to make her love me.
Today Bria is five years old. She’s my oldest hen. She’s never stopped bitching. She hates everyone, even other chickens. She’s a phenomenal mom but she’s the type who is forever exasperated and in need of a spa day. She doesn’t allow the roosters near her so I have to give her eggs from other hens when she’s in the mood to be a mom.
She’s mean as hell and the only mean animal I’ve ever let stay here. She doesn’t seek out trouble, she just prefers to be alone or with her babies. I’ve watched her battle much larger animals to protect her little ones. A couple years ago she was almost killed by my geese while defending her babies. Fortunately, despite hating my guts, she allowed me to intervene that time without drawing my blood.
She’s a fluffy warrior. Probably a direct descendant from dinosaurs. If she catches me looking her direction she growls. Truthfully, she walks around growling complaints all day long. I’m no longer afraid of her. I’m happy I was able to pluck her from what was probably a very crappy life. I don’t blame her for being a jerk that keeps to herself. She has her boundaries and I respect them. I warn visitors to give her space and they do. When she has attacked me it’s always because I’m in her personal bubble. Girlfriend doesn’t play.
She has a big role here as the matriarch of the farm. She raises two to three rounds of babies a year who are always healthy and great foragers. Last year she fought a large snake to defend her nest – and got away with her life despite having teeth marks on both sides of her face.
I’d like to think she secretly likes me and is happy here but I’ve never been able to get a photo of her without disgust or anger in her eyes.
So I didn’t make her love me but I did learn to respect her boundaries. Oh well, can’t win them all.
BTW, my other Buff Orpington (Babette), who was only a chick when I got Bria is everything I wanted in the breed. Babette is sweet, affectionate and always wanting attention. Bria is the opposite and I’m pretty sure she was the model for the game Angry Birds. 😉
xo