When someone talks to me about chickens two things happen. I have a warm fuzzy moment as I absolutely love chooks and then the next thought is oh, what is wrong now? Most people talk to me about chickens when there is something wrong with them and I am happy to try and help. As a child I seem to remember bantam roosters who attacked me but as a teenager and adult I have had the most amazing good natured roosters.
As a teenager I used to chat to a local farmer about chickens, who inspired me to start showing them and my love grew from there. My brother gave me some chickens, and I remember a white hen who had a very bad ear infection and medication did not fix her completely. She could not eat by herself due to bad balance and coordination but could walk around and scratch. So I made a special spoon and fed her daily, straight down the throat. She lived a number of happy years after her illness. My father gave me some Minorca chickens, a rare Spanish breed, but the catch was they were in Tasmania. I imported them to the mainland and showed and bred these magnificent birds. I had a gorgeous Old English Game pair walk in off the street and showed them and they then reproduced. Then there was Nigel, a rooster who started as Nigella who I rescued from a rental property. She just kept growing and growing and started crowing, and became Nigel (pictured below). He grew to 10kg and lived a happy life for 2 years until he died quickly of a heart attack. He must have been a meat chicken who are meant to be culled at 5 weeks of age. He was a gentle giant. Are you seeing a pattern of chickens as gifts here?