Chicks love me

Me and Pippi, Frances, and Katy
have a special bond. (Photo
courtesy their mama.)

My friend Karen (of mamalooma) is living the chicken dream. Whereas I promised myself last year that 2010 would be the year of the chickens, I did not achieve that goal, and I still haven't worked up the guts to apply for a chicken permit. Part of it is because I resent having to jump through hoops and appear in front of a city council to justify using my own land for my own purposes. But it's mostly that I have a terrible fear of authority figures, even if they're just councilpeople in a rather small city, and do not wish to be publicly humiliated. I am afraid there's some neighbor out there within the 300 feet of the corners of my property who has a life-long phobia of chickens and will protest vehemently, and I will be able to do nothing but cry.

But Karen has jumped right in. Granted, she lives in a different, chicken-friendly city, but it's still quite the plunge. Today I had the privilege of meeting her little ladies: Pippi, a Barred Rock; Frances, a Silver-Laced Wyandotte; and Katy, a Rhode Island Red. Katy's the assertive, adventurous one of the bunch and Pippi's the runt. Frances likes to peck me. But they all seem to love me. Just call me the chicken whisperer. Pippi quickly hopped into my lap, and when I told Frances that she could come up, too, she did so, with Katy not far behind. Instead of pecking the ground, they snuggled me.

Attempts at getting a neighborhood robin to join us was not met with success.

And I saw a giant earthworm and freaked out.

However, I remain very impressed with Karen's cute little urban garden and her even cuter soon-to-be-finished chicken coop. I hope I will get to visit her ladies often, and think I'll bring them some (much less frightening) tiny worms next time I visit.