Anne Cooper

I was brought up in a village in the North East of England. It wasn't one of those idyllic chocolate box villages; it was a bit more rustic and rough around the edges than that. But what we were brought up with were allotments. With allotments come the desire to grow great produce and also, for some, rear poultry and, especially during the war, pigs. My granddad was an allotment man. In his day he reared chickens as well as the community pig but this was before I was born or can remember.

Having this history, over the years I developed a desire to have some hens of my own. Without really noticing I have reached middle age and we have a garden with enough space so, almost without my seeing it, it had become possible. So, I decided that for my 50th Birthday I wanted some hens.

My family rose to the challenge and my 50th Birthday gift was a chicken coop. I adopted 4 ex-battery hens from the British Hen Welface Trust who run a resue scheme. http://www.bhwt.org.uk/ The four girls, named after my mother-in-law and her best friends (I'm not sure if she was flattered or shocked), arrived in July 2013. Dorothy (boss hen), Jean, Hazel and Marion arrived into our lives looking a bit sad with few feathers. My love affair with hens had begun.

Hazel hen was in the worst state when she arrived. No bum feathers at all! Looking after hens for the first time was slightly scary. While I was young we have every pet imaginable but we never had birds, although I vaguely remember Granddad having pigeons, like many men in the North East of his generation. I had never had anything to do with them and I had never even picked up a bird. Gradually, over the weeks and months that followed we became accustomed to each other - I gained confidence and they grew used to me. I love them. I love the way they talk to each other, dig for grubs and have their dust baths. The first time I saw them having a dust bath, in the soft soil in the sunshine it made me laugh out loud. Their joy was palpable. I guess they had probably never had the chance to do that before in their short lives. Fresh sweetcorn was their treat and they would fight over the cobs picking them up and trying to take them away from each other - they made me laugh a lot!

Sadly hens who have been reared in battery farms do not have a good start. We did well for a while with great advice from some of my Twitter pals when I wasn't sure. Rob and Sarah (you know who you are) and my friend Fiona acted as mentors and helped me get the girls to good health. But 3 of the girls have since then died leaving me with a solitary hen - Jean - all alone.

We then faced a dilemma.

I know hens are flock creatures, they dislike being alone and thrive best in social structures. Having said that I was worried about the issue of introducing new hens to Jean, who is by now over 3 and by most hen standards a reasonably old lady. What should we do? I couldn't do it. She started to look sadder and sadder after Dorothy Hen died. Christmas came and went. The New Year emerged and I decided we needed 2 more hens.

Getting more ex-battery hens isn't always easy as the collection days are sporadic. I decided that I would go to a local farm and buy 2 more hens. We went all prepared and ready to bring home the new ladies. At the farm we met the 'poultry man' who was great but he advised us that 2 young hens with Jean was not a great idea and his suggestion was that a companion for Jean could be a duck! So that's what happened. We bought and brought home Jemima Duck.

It is a joy to watch Jean Hen and Jemima Duck together. Companionship is important. Sometimes unexpected friends emerge and watching these two waddle around the garden is fun and heart- warming. Jean Hen has never looked better and I feel sure is the boss in the new relationship! I am hoping their companionship will last many years - I know that I love watching them both and we are expecting lovely duck eggs soon too :)

Sarah Clarke

Paul Stubbs

Patsy Booth

Eilene Corcoran

I lost my tiny little flock of four last year to a couple loose dogs, so I had to start over this spring. We raised 13 chicks for ourselves and a couple friends, and would you believe 10 of them turned out to be male? So we were down to one little pullet for us, and a couple for the friends. We found a woman advertising an easter egger on a local poultry group, so we arranged to meet her in a parking lot of a local business. She pulled up, grabs this little girl out of a cage, and hands her to me... I swear, she had exactly three tail feathers, bald spots, just a sad looking bird. My husband said... are you seriously going to take her? Look at her! I said... yes, absolutely... I have to get her away from them! So, for $15, I got the saddest little chicken in the world. She lays a beautiful blue egg nearly every day, and though she is still sort of a ragamuffin, she's feathered out quite nicely. We call her Lucy, the Junkyard Chicken! She has more personality in her little foot than most other birds! Love my little Lucy.

Jordan, 17

Kay

Never take their care for granted. Always be aware of illnesses and predators and make sure you can make them as safe as possible! Sometimes you experience deaths and I wonder whether I could prevent them and if I had noticed earlier that they were poorly...  You feel guilt.

Chicken keeping is rewarding if you really want to do it. It takes time, can take a lot of money if you want it too, but the rewards can be immense. I think some people think they don't need to do much but they do need care, again for health reasons and fox attacks etc. If they are pets they should be treated as such.

They take time and need to opened up in the morning and put away at night for their own safety. I am worried that if I ever forgot, not that I have, but if I did something awful would happen. Its all about routine. If I keep to that, the hens like it too, then hopefully everything will be okay.

Annie Green, UK

My hen story is a word of caution. Please don't read this if you are easily upset by the death of a hen.

I had had my hens for about 6 months and had never had any problems from Mr Fox. All three of my girls free ranged in the garden and were 'secure' inside a 6ft high fence. My dog, Stanley, would never let anything in to the garden, not even a strange cat and we had/have cats of our own but he still wouldn't let other cats in.

I would stand and watch my girls digging about and pulling up the weeds and plants and often reminded myself that I really must get a run... one day soon.

On a rather warm sunday afternoon the girls were indeed free ranging and I was out with them pottering around in the garden. Eventually my daughter knocked on the door for a coffee, she lives 6 doors away, and it was nice just to sit and chat together without my beloved grandchildren stealing all the attention. I love them to bits but sometimes you just want a one to one girly chat. So I popped the kettle on and we soon settled down at the kitchen table for our much missed chinwag safe in the knowledge that my girls were being cared for by Stanley. After a few minutes we heard one of the chooks squawk then some kind of banging noise. Both myself and my daughter were out of our seats and into the garden in a flash, closely followed, then overtaken, by Stanley. The banging continued for what seemed like forever and it took us a few minutes for fathom out which direction the banging was coming from. My two other chooks were hiding behind me as quiet as mice.

Me and daughter raced to the bottom of the garden and into the bushes just in time to spot Mr Fox jump over the fence into next doors garden. I swear he had nothing in his mouth and he wasn't alone with my poor chicken long enough to do anything but kill her. We knew she was dead and searched for a very long time to find her body but she was gone. We never found her and we were both heart broken. It was my fault and I will never forgive myself for being so complacent. Now I have 9 chickens and all of them are housed in the biggest run I could fit into my garden. They still free range but only when I can stay out there too. If anyone knocks on my door I ignore them. My girls are far too precious to risk them again.

Moffazzol Khan

Claire Walsh

In May 2014 I saw a crash on the M62, where a truck driver spilled his load of ex battery hens onto the motorway. Over a thousand dead, and some 2000 left wandering. My Ladies were rescued from being slammed back onto the truck by a group of people who went down to help save the live hens. We got our Ladies the day after the crash, from the shed where the poorly hens were being kept before they left for rescues. We took home SJ, Amybird and Clara, the impossible chicken. Sadly, we lost Clara a few days afterwards as her pelvis was shattered. We then gained Donna and Martha from the same crash a few days later. Joining the flock was Gertie, an old ex batt who came to us to live out her days with us as she was a lone bird.

Sadly, we lost Gertie to old age and Donna to EYP, but Amy, SJ and Martha are still going strong. It was a struggle, watching them at first, to understand just why they were in this state. Parallel to the injuries from the crash, they were bald, and their poor beaks were dreadfully wonky. It has taken 10 months for the worst of the beaks to regrow/trim down to a point where Amy can now pick up food.

These Ladies are such funny little girls, and a huge entertainment to us all. The eggs are welcomed also, though if they decided to stop laying tomorrow, they'd all have homes till the end of their days. We are beginners, and boy were we thrown in at the deep end, but we wouldn't change it at all!

They even have their own Facebook page! www.facebook.com/cluckybunch

Julie and Andrew Snell

Mr and Mrs Ritson

P. Yovhill

Wilfred Wales

Laura, UK

Our chickens are pets although there is too many of them to know them all by name, theres always the odd few that stand out as they have so much character!

We have a a rather mischievous chicken named Vera who is an escape artist. She was recently missing for a long time, and could not be found. This was until one cold winter morning she was found on top of the hay bales with a bunch of chicks. This then lead to my elderly Grandma having to scale the hay bales to rescue mother and young. Luckily all are recovered and doing fine (my grandma included!)

Anne Cooper

I was brought up in a village in the North East of England. It wasn't one of those idyllic chocolate box villages; it was a bit more rustic and rough around the edges than that. But what we were brought up with were allotments. With allotments come the desire to grow great produce and also, for some, rear poultry and, especially during the war, pigs. My granddad was an allotment man. In his day he reared chickens as well as the community pig but this was before I was born or can remember.

Having this history, over the years I developed a desire to have some hens of my own. Without really noticing I have reached middle age and we have a garden with enough space so, almost without my seeing it, it had become possible. So, I decided that for my 50th Birthday I wanted some hens.

My family rose to the challenge and my 50th Birthday gift was a chicken coop. I adopted 4 ex-battery hens from the British Hen Welface Trust who run a resue scheme. http://www.bhwt.org.uk/ The four girls, named after my mother-in-law and her best friends (I'm not sure if she was flattered or shocked), arrived in July 2013. Dorothy (boss hen), Jean, Hazel and Marion arrived into our lives looking a bit sad with few feathers. My love affair with hens had begun.

Hazel hen was in the worst state when she arrived. No bum feathers at all!

Looking after hens for the first time was slightly scary. While I was young we have every pet imaginable but we never had birds, although I vaguely remember Granddad having pigeons, like many men in the North East of his generation. I had never had anything to do with them and I had never even picked up a bird. Gradually, over the weeks and months that followed we became accostomed to each other - I gained confidence and they grew used to me. I love them. I love the way they talk to each other, dig for grubs and have their dust baths. The first time I saw them having a dust bath, in the soft soil in the sunshine it made me laugh out loud. Their joy was palpable. I guess they had probably never had the chance to do that before in their short lives.

Fresh sweetcorm was their treat and they would fight over the cobs picking them up and trying to take them away from each other - they made me laugh a lot!

A rare picture of the 4 hens together when they had re-feathered and were enjoying the garden and eating sweetcorn.

Sadly hens who have been reared in battery farms do not have a good start. We did well for a while with great advice from some of my Twitter pals when I wasn't sure. Rob and Sarah (you know who you are) and my friend Fiona acted as mentors and helped me get the girls to good health. But 3 of the girls have since then died leaving me with a solitary hen - Jean - all alone.

We then faced a dilemma.

I know hens are flock creatures, they dislike being alone and thrive best in social structures. Having said that I was worried about the issue of introducing new hens to Jean, who is by now over 3 and by most hen standards a reasonably old lady. What should we do?

I couldn't do it. She started to look sadder and sadder after Dorothy Hen died. Christmas came and went. The New Year emerged and I decided we needed 2 more hens.

Getting more ex-battery hens isn't always easy as the collection days are sporadic. I decided that I would go to a local farm and buy 2 more hens. We went all prepared and ready to bring home the new ladies.

At the farm we met the 'poultry man' who was great but he advised us that 2 young hens with Jean was not a great idea and his suggestion was that a companion for Jean could be a duck! So that's what happened. We bought and brought home Jemima Duck.

It is a joy to watch Jean Hen and Jemima Duck together. Companionship is important. Sometimes unexpected friends emerge and watching these two waddle around the garden is fun and heart-warming. Jean Hen has never looked better and I feel sure is the boss in the new relationship! I am hoping their companionship will last many years - I know that I love watching them both and we are expecting lovely duck eggs soon too

Best friends

Alex Batey, 13

I breed and show hens - I just fancied taking it up as a hobby at first but then it grew from there. Some parts of it are competitive but it is mostly friendly. My first show was just a small village one but it was a good experience.

The first chicks I hatched and reared were belgium's bantams - they were good mothers. Call ducks are especially hard to breed.

Margaret Bell

When I was young I used to come home from a dance at 2 o'clock in the morning. I'd have to not wake any cockerels up otherwise they all crowed until getting up time. And I used to be in very serious trouble! My dad was a farmer... if you woke one up it set the whole lot off and they crowed until getting up time... so you can imagine...

I used to sneak down the lane on tip-toe trying not to wake them up. I was about 16 - 20... I'd been to a dance. You know.. it was just one of those things when you live on a farm!

We sold the eggs and the eggs for hatching - that's why there were a lot of cockerels because we needed them all fertile. I used to help feed them... just the things you do on a farm, you do a bit of everything when you live on a farm. I married into a farming family so there was no let-up from the cockerels!

Jacob, Luke & Harvey

We got into hen keeping because they looked good and it's a good hobby - it's nice to look at them and that. We thought we'd have a go at showing them... we thought it'd be good to take part, that's the main thing. Today we're showing old English game bantams. The judges are looking for a bird that's shaped like a heart, and I think that's about it

We've been doing it for a couple of years - my dad used to always keep them. They just make you happy. It makes you proud of keeping them. We aim to get some of the best, and have some of the best in the game and win everything.

Beryl Mercer

When I was little, my Mom used to send me to gather the eggs. I used to love that job and would run out as soon as I heard the 'laying song'. There is nothing nicer than holding a warm egg that the hen has just layed, against your cheek.

I gathered the eggs and helped my Mom clean the coop as it helped to feed us. I loved the hens and miss having them very much!

Sally, Portsmouth

Last July, I had read about hatching and thought that sounded fun to do with my son who loves science so we built an incubator and hatched a few ducks and chickens over his birthday. We like animals and fresh produce so it seemed like a nice ecological project. We raised them until a fox got them at Xmas, now we are awaiting the hatching of our new flock.

It would be lovely, but unrealistic for us to be self sufficient, but it is practical and economic for us to keep chickens, ducks and grow vegetables. It is good for the children to recognise that cockerels are butchered for every hen (in our case fed to the dog) and to recognise a little more about how the food they eat came about, not to mention interesting to see the eggs development.

Set up consists of an outside hen coup for ten birds in an 3.5mx3.5m enclosed pen. In the summer they are often let out to free range while supervised.

Currently there is only the three survivors, two road island reds and a partridge silkie, there was prior to xmas also a light Sussex, a hybrid large fowl like a bluebell, a white silkie, a cuckoo maran and a ginger hybrid hen. Ducks there were two runners and an Aylesbury drake. One of the runners was very imprinted so she would sit on laps and have cuddles, all would eat from your hand and come running and shouting if you came near them. The kids used to catch big garden spiders in fishing nets and the chickens would go nuts squabbling over them. Names Bean the imprinted runner duck (runner bean, cocobean as she was chocolate and jumping bean as she was a very very bouncy duckling), jasmine the drake, scamp the other runner, flutter the bluebell type, buttercup  the light Sussex rooster, maria the ginger hen.

Pros: fresh eggs, company, fun, no slugs or snails, educational, quicker composting, nice being out with them.

Cons: mess of chicken duck poo everywhere, dig up the lawn, responsibility of early morning let out, hard work mucking out!

Linda Bradley, UK

My grandad kept hens; they were a huge part of his and my life. I practically lived with my grandparents so helped with the chickens daily.  My grandad was poor so the eggs were a huge boost to the larder, eggs and rabbit odd roast chicken were a staple.

The hens were kept in a large shed with  indoor nest boxes and perches - about 25 of them. They had a deep sawdust bedding which was only changed when absolutely necessary. The shed had lots of windows covered in thick cobwebs. The two doors were opened every morning usually by me. I loved the noise as they all piled out. A fond memory is my grandad digging his garden and calling the hens every time he found a worm or insect. Watching the hens run always made me laugh and we had to make sure each had their fair share which with over 20 hens was hard work

A memory I always think of is my grandad and I sat on his pen and he said what do chickens do first when they scratch, peck I said no; they step back and look, and they do he was so proud of his birds I could feel it. I collected the feathers loved the feel of them I liked to pick them up feel under their wings. We spent ages sitting just watching the birds.

The hens ate scraps mostly which was boiled up in a large pan by my nan. When cool I had to carry the pan over to the pen and mix it with layers mix by hand it had a warm yeasty smell and I found it comforting to mix it. The hens appeared to love it. Also a job i liked and disliked too was giving grain which was placed in special feeders. It would have earwigs in the kernels which hens loved but I hated collecting the eggs too it used to worried to take the eggs out from under the broodies they always looked like they were gonna peck. My nan liked me to sort sizes when the eggs were back in kitchen, we used to sort it into colour too which was more of a game really. Once a year the rats had to be sorted hens were locked in any holes blocked up feret dog brought in children were put on shed roofs on the pen and basic lying all he'll let loose as rats came running a out from under hen coop for the dogs to kill.

My view might be biased but our hens were liked if not loved they were a necessity  a reasonably cheap way of producing food. Eaten when old and not laying but greatly cherished for what they provided.

Kathy Spurgeon Poitevint, UK

Life for me started with feeding the chickens, gathering the eggs, cleaning the building where they lived. We did not have a roo as our chickens were for eating. Eggs were an extra treat. We did have geese that made my life hell! They would gang up on me and attack.

The hens were at my grandparents next door. I learned what to do to care for them, feed them, doctor them and cull them.

They were part of life, to be taken care of, protected, housed etc. We knew they would not be around long so we did not get attached to any certain hen. I fed, doctored, cleaned, gathered eggs. All the jobs of a farm.

They were a way to help us. So they were tended to before we ate or went to school or church. Their welfare came before ours.

Michelle Wilson, UK

I grew up on a farm with leghorns.  My job was to clean out the hen house once a week, collect the eggs and look for anything weird.  My birds did well.  We had 2 roosters that fought occasionally, so my dad killed one, even though I thought they got on well enough most of the time.  I think it was a rooster pecking order thing and limited.  I didn't enjoy eating him.  I was upset dad killed him as we had lots of hens.  I don't think dad watched them like I did and jumped to conclusions after watching them spar.  After that I moved out and decided I wanted to have Croad Langshans as my own chickens.  They are awesome and I have up to 9 roosters over 30 hens.  It works.  Now I have turkey's too, and I have to be very regimented with my worming program, but it works well.  I am 45 now, so I have had a good deal of exposure to chooks.

They were seen as an important staple of our diet (eggs).  More valued as they seem to be now.  Now farm people rely on trips to the supermarket more.  Not me though.

Alex Henry, UK

As a child growing up in the 1980s we always visited our family on the Isle of Skye every summer. Our Auntie Norah and Uncle Iain had a farm and whenever we visited me and 2 sisters would always want to see if the chickens had laid any eggs. AMAZINGLY every time we went to check they had ALL laid eggs and we excitedly collected them up, thinking nothing of it. It wasn't until years later that the eggs had been planted there by out great aunt and uncle - oh!!! The deceit!!!

Angela Scott, UK

I used to visit my great grandparents, and grandparents who lived in the countryside on the edge of dartmoor every weekend with my parents as a young child 4-6 years old Which was a liberating experience as i was raised in a city.

They lived at the bottom of at large garden there was an orchard with an what appeared to be a very large metal Anderson shelter type building. I remember the brown chickens being everywhere inside, my grandparents would normally have to come and get me as I would be in there for so long watching the chickens going about their business. I loved it in that shed with the chickens, and I still carry those happy memories with me.

I always said when I grew up I would have a house with a garden and loads of hens. I currently have 12 rather pampered hens.

I would go and collect the eggs for the family, and would have to hunt high and low for them  so it was no quick job. For my family keeping chickens was something that went back generations so it was normal especially in a rural environment. However when back in the city other children in my school did not share in my excitement with the chicken experiences that I had.

There were stoats or minks at the bottom of the orchard. One particular day my grandad shouted that the stoat/mink was chasing me up the path for the eggs. I ran as fast as I could and tripped fell over breaking nearly all the eggs I had collected in the wicker basket. I thought that in was going to be in so much trouble for breaking all those eggs. However when I walked in no the house the whole family burst out laughing. I was understandably very relieved.

Jan L'Argent, UK

When I retired I realised I could do something that my mother did in keeping hens.  We always had chickens but the one I remember is the pet chicken that I called Penny and used to come to the back door for treats.  It isn't just that they give us beautiful eggs but that they are great little characters, funny and so endearing in their ways. I've had hens for 2 years now, they are my pets, they all have names and I love them very much some even like a cuddle! I've lost a couple and it broke my heart but you never stop learning but one of the most important things is that I have made friends because of the hens.

I wanted to have really fresh eggs and on the side of economy I rarely have to buy eggs.  My hens are well cared for and not in cages, they are kept clean and have room to fly, which they're usually too lazy to bother with. I can't bear the thought of hens kept in cages where they have no room to move, where they are pecked by their too close neighbours and are considered 'past it' by the age of 2 and sent for meat unless they are lucky enough to be rescued.

I have 2 runs, 7 share a 2 x 4 metre run, they have a converted garden shed for a coop because I find purpose built runs too difficult to clean (I have arthritis in my spine).  It is well sealed against draughts, has nest boxes and a perch.  Their kiln dried sand on the floor to which I occasionally add diatomaceous earth - they use it for dust bathing but it also really easy to keep clean.  They have hemp bedding because it is so absorbent and easy to clean out as well.  Their run has hard wood chip on the floor and is changed every 3 months or so and when someone is home we let them have the run of the garden, which upsets my other half as they decimate his veg beds!  The other run has 3 girls but is similarly set up but smaller and they have an ark not a shed, I take the roof off to clean it out.

There are 10 in number, 2 Speckledy's, 1 Bluebelle the rest are hybrid crosses of Copper Black Maran, Cream Legbar and Skyline.  They are all named after British Queens and Queen Consorts because one of my first hens was a lovely coppery red/brown with creamy feather mixed in around the neck which I thought looked like an Elizabethan ruff so she was called Elizabeth.  Sadly she died from mycoplasmosis. I now have Eleanor, Caroline, Matilda (who strictly speaking called herself Empress), Margaret, known as Meggie, Guinevere, Isabelle, Anne, Katherine, Jane and Boudicca, clled Boo for short.  Annie likes to cuddle as does Matilda.  The 2 Speckledy's are just gannets and very noisy especially when it comes to telling the whole village that an egg has been laid!  All the little cross breeds are less biddable and prefer not to be handled but once they have been picked up they tolerate it except for Meggie whole give you a nasty bruise with her beak!  Oddly she is bottom of the pecking order but is not bullied.  Katherine is also bottom of the pecking order in her run.

Pros are fresh eggs, friends (both hens and people) and always having a talking point.

Cons are it's expensive to get your set up, keeping it clean is less so but is time consuming, feed is relatively cheap but good quality food is worth it.  If you live in an urban area getting a good poultry vet is difficult.  Losing a hen is very hard, it's as bad as your dog/cat dying. Going on holiday is difficult unless there is someone you trust to care as much as you do.

You may have to deal with the horrific result of fox invasion or even buzzard and sparrowhawk. You have to be prepared to deal with mice/rats if they crop up.

Advice? It is not cheap or easy so think hard before you jump in. Do a backyard chicken course. Research breeds, some lay better, some are noisy others less so. some may be more prone to disease. Consider taking ex-batts they will lay for several more years, are well domesticated and will give the pleasure of knowing that you gave them freedom from cages and a longer life.

There are so many little things but I'll never forget the day I met Matilda walking down the road when returning with the dog from a walk. Thankfully, we live in a village and a cul-de-sac but we do get traffic. I was horrified that I could have lost her but it was hilarious watching my blue/grey hen happily strolling along and picking up tidbits from the neighbours hedges!  She'd flown over 2 garden gates to get out so I've never let them free range unattended again!

The Hunters, UK

My daughter,  who was about 3 at the time, used to get taken for a walk by her granny or grandpa every so often.  She would hold their hand and happily wander up the country lane.  On reaching the back lane she would ask to be lifted up and carried.  Rounding the corner and being carried by her grandparent she would see the small flock of hens halfway up the lane and amongst them the small white cockerel.  As they approached the hens would wander off but the cockerel would stand in the middle of the lane and puff out its chest, it was up for a fight and my daughter would hang on tight and begin to laugh.  She thought it was hilarious that granny or grandpa was being attacked by the miniature cockerel and the fuss that ensued.  Unfortunately the cockerel picked a fight with a 4 wheel drive and came off second best!

Patsy Booth

Roy Conyers, UK

My first real introduction to chickens was as an 8 year old kid in the back bedroom of an old Coronation Street type house in Hull in about 1949. My father, not being much of a handyman, (even I could see that at 8 years old ) put an old door horizontally across two trestles in the middle of the back bedroom. Knowing Dad , it could well have been the door to the room. All around the edges he secured a 9″ up stand with hardboard. I particularly remembering him cover the door with something called lino (linoleum). In the middle he placed a most peculiar sort of mini building. It looked like a pyramid on legs which were about 6″ high. It was about 2 ' 0″ square , and about two foot high and made of aluminium. I know that for sure because I always got my hands dirty when I touched it. Joining each of the legs was skirting which you could attach and detach. On one of the four sides of the pyramid was a huge sort of spyglass which you were supposed to look through. It seemed a bit stupid to me when all you had to do to see inside was to lift up the pyramid which was hinged on one of the four sides. Having done this it revealed a beautiful shiny brass, circular oil lamp on its own stand on three legs. Around the outside of the lamp was a circular piece of grey aluminium full of holes. It looked like a giant cheese grater and was about 9″ diameter and about 12″ high. He called this gadget a Hoover! The floor, or door,  was then covered with sawdust, probably got from the butcher at the top of the street. No one else I knew about kept sawdust! We got the paraffin for the lamp also from the hardware store at the top of the street. In fact you could get anything you wanted from the top of the street including fish and chips. I know that for sure because my mum used to work there sometimes, and come home stinking of them.

Then the day arrived I had been waiting for: it seemed as if I had been waiting years. In those days most livestock and birds was transported on trains . (People were not allowed. Only livestock.) So we had to go to the main train station and pick up our special parcel. I was utterly disappointed. It was tiny. About 12″ * 12″ * 6″ high. I expected it to be massive. It was so light I thought there was nothing in it. There were lots of neat regular holes around the top about one half of an inch in diameter. I carried it home very carefully as if it was full of water which I was not able to spill. Before we went to collect it Dad lit the oil lamp and made sure all the 4 skirting's were secure to keep all the warmth in. I can still taste the smell of that shiny paraffin lamp today. I remember standing on a chair whilst we delicately cut the bright red waxed up string around the box . You did this with a candle to make sure all the knots would not slip and come undone. They had done it too well and I began to feel impatient because I could not get the string off fast enough. Then came the magic moment. Holding my breath I carefully and very slowly removed the box lid to reveal the most beautiful site I had ever experienced in my short life. Today , after 60+ years I can still visualise in my minds eye that most incredible site of 10 of the most beautiful tiny, yellow, fluffy day old cuddly chicks in the world. I was speechless and just overwhelmed. They were only a day old and were busy scurrying about searching for something to eat as if they were weeks old, and they were delighted to see the daylight. Some of them even tried to escape from the box to investigate this new world we had brought them into. We lifted them out of the box and put them next to the heater which by this time was lovely and warm. Dad had removed one of the skirting's thus allowing access both to the heater and to the open run. They were absolutely delighted and charged about all over the place chasing imaginary flies. I picked them up one at a time gave each one a kiss and a cuddle and put them back to play. What I found quite surprising was that they were not frightened of me or Dad. We were like giants to them and yet they showed no fear, just complete trust. We put in some water and chick crumbs but they just ignored them. Apparently they often go for a day or so without eating or drinking. After an exciting time in the sawdust they eventually settled down to sleep in their warm little den and we tucked them in, put back the skirting and left them for the night quietly churping away to each other. Just like kids do when they go to bed. My parents were not into cuddles and kind words and I suppose for the first time in my life I had found a bond of love and understanding that I had not been used to before between my self and these most special little bundles of joy.

For the next two weeks or so I spent all my spare time, looking after them. Cleaning them out. Washing their dirty feet and bums. Supplying clean water and food. I used to love feeding them by hand and they all used to try and perch on my fingers at the same time. They were so funny. It was a fascinating experience to have them walking all over my hands and arms. Of course the sad time came when one of them died, so without much ado my brother and sister and I had a serious funeral to organise, a coffin to make, and a hole to dig in the garden. And so we learned about life and death. I spent every minute I could with them . We talked to each other incessantly and I never got tired of watching them get up to all their funny antics. Another thing I learned was how quickly they grow up, and before three weeks were up they were jumping over the edge of their door onto the floor. So sadly they were discharged into the garden, which was much better for them and of course, much more fun. Even after all these years I still smile and reflect with such joy at my first introduction to chickens. I was a very lucky little boy.

Anne Rolland, Todmorden

We used to take the girls for picnics and to see the chickens at Mythmroyd. One time they started feeding their sandwiches to the chickens in a nearby pen. I had to stop them as they were chicken paste sandwiches... didn't want to make cannibal chickens.

Paul Forsaw, Lancashire

When I was about 12 I worked on Drakes Farm, one of my jobs was collecting eggs from the battery sheds; I had a round selling eggs on my street and about 15 people bought eggs off me. One day in a hedge on the farm I found a hen sitting on about 15 eggs I sold them to Mrs Morris, Cheryl's Mum one of my best customers. A couple of days later she shouted me in the street and sacked me with the words "I don't know where you got those eggs you little sod, but you nearly killed us all".

 Also, an old man used to sell chickens from his allotment to people on our street. I was at my mate Robert Quinns house one day when he turned up with half a dozen plucked wrung Hens. When Mrs Quinn started squealing after he had gone "Robert, Robert it's alive!!" (the poor bird was it was blinking) Robert took it in the back Garden and chopped it's head off with a Machete. It jumped up ran around then ran into the Kitchen with no head... it was horrible. And I've never heard a woman scream as long and as loud as his Mum when it ran into the kitchen with her.

Susan Ratliff, 58, Newcastle

My grandfather who I never met used to keep hens, and my mother used to look after them. And she told me that when the hens wouldn't lay my grandfather used to tell her to give the hens a Beecham's pill in a teaspoon of jam! When I was a child, and particularly during the 70s, chicken became very popular. However, because my Mam had loved the chickens she could never bring herself to buy, cook or eat chicken. We always had pork for Christmas dinner. My grandfather lived in South Moor, Stanley, Co Durham. During the war, he would give chickens to families in hardship, but my Mam got upset because she saw them as pets and gave them names.

Mandy Roberts, 50, Nothumberland

My family kept hens when I was a teenager - part of the self sufficiency 'craze' of the 70's I guess.

 We had a Rhode Island Red cockerel called Eric The Red who we were very scared of but needed to lock up at night. We had to use a bamboo stick to get him into the greenhouse - a bigger target than the chicken hut.

 We also had bantams who would roost in the bushes at dusk - we had to lift them down and pop them away as they roosted so low that a fox could have easily got them.

Gordon, 78, Gateshead

We had a stray chicken. We never kept any ourselves but we had a stray that would come up the stairs and sit in front of the hearth. You know, like one of them big open fires. It would just sit there in front of the fire it until it decided where it wanted to go next. It didn't belong to us like, but it definitely took a fancy to us. When me father went out for a drink, the chicken would follow him home from the club and into the house. He was its guardian.

Dorothy, 82, Gateshead

A lot of people had them during the war - mainly for the eggs I think because they were hard times. But you could nearly always get chicken or eggs. You always had chicken.

 I used to stay at my aunty's in Embleton when I was a child. From about the age of 9 me Mam would put me on the bus at Haymarket and my aunty would get me off at Embleton, up the coast. I used to go up there for holidays in the summer - I loved the sea. Anyway, there were chickens all over the bloody place up there. They'd just wander in the middle of the road. They knew who you were and they'd follow you all over, I've even seen a chicken trying to get into the bloody sea man!

Red, UK

Milly and Eva especially were very tame, to the point where Milly would climb inside my jumper for a cuddle and both would come when I called their names!

I can't even begin to describe what an amazing girl Milly was. She was my shadow whenever I was in the garden and, often, in the house too! She passed away in 2010 and I still think about her every day.

This was my first cuddle when I got back from a few months at uni

Ollie, UK

During WWII my Uncle Fred had a small piece of land, known as a "piece". There was a small area for vegetables but most of the land was for live stock. A few pigs, one more than the government knew about (that one was for the family). Goats for milk and later their meat. Hens were my favourites and I've had a soft spot for them ever since. I loved collecting those warm eggs!

Noreen, Birtley

I used to like to take the eggs out - they were my dads. We used to like it when they laid the eggs because we had something to eat! My dad was very keen so we had lots. We used to like the eggs. We didn't play with them, but we liked them. We certainly liked the eggs.

 When I was a little girl I went with dad who kept bantems. We ate them because we had lots - we would replace the ones me Mam had killed for the Sunday dinner. We went to the allotment every day from the age of 2 until school and we played with them, they were very friendly.

 My Mam was very interested in the hens - she used to gather the crusts off the neighbours and she'd mix that with their food. Look after them was hard work. Getting them back into the garden after they escaped was especially hard work!

 They kept them in wooden cages called crees - cobbled together from whatever wood they could find. My dad put them into shows - they'd judge them on their feathers, if the nails were properly cut - allsorts. He used to win and that kept him going. We went all over. You didn't have a lot of money to spend in those days but we went as far as we could - we went on some hilarious hikes.

 On the morning they knew who you were - they definitely knew they were getting fed!

Joan, Tyne and Wear

Someone in the street used to keep them so we had to help. We collected the eggs but it was so long ago I can't remember much. They used to come running to you - they knew it was feeding time. I think they still do!

Peggy, Tyne and Wear

My Dad kept a chicken and it used to jump on top of the coal house and shout 'cockadoodledo!' - just like that!

Miriam, Heworth

We were kids. Times were hard up - we could afford toys so we had hens instead. We had a budgie too so they would natter at each other.

Doris, Heworth

My son used to keep hens and ducks: Daffy, Donald and Micky. And then he had the hens but the fox got the whole lot. They used to come in the house - they used to come in and walk around. But the fox got them all - he got some more but it happened again, so that's when he gave up. He shot a fox once. He went to the police and asked if he was allowed and after that they said he was, so he got a gun and shot the fox. I couldn't do it but he did. He had a big garden and he just liked them, and the kids liked them. They used to pick them up and play with them - they were very tame.

Ken, Heworth

It's funny - a lot of people kept hens when I was young. I don't know why but it's gone out of fashion a bit now. Nearly everybody had hens - because allotments and that were big things. People had big gardens... a vegetable garden and kept hens. It was amazing how many people kept hens in those days - I suppose it was just for the eggs in those days. It was during the war and pre-war. The eggs were important to local people, but they don't seem to be as important now. My father in law was a great hen man. I just fed them sometimes, there wasn't much to do.

Millie, Gateshead

I'm going back before the war. In the 30s. My granddad had them - they had a large back garden. We always had chicken for Christmas Dinner and I didn't realize they were one of my Grandma's chickens! He kept them to raise them and eat them - it was during the depression, the 30s - a lot of people were out of work. So they had the big garden and they built these big sheds - chickens in one and pigeons in the other because they used to race the pigeons. But the chickens were... I never knew when we had our Christmas dinner it was one of the chickens that was dead! I didn't help to look after them because I was just a little girl then - this was before the war years... I'm well past my sell by date pet!

Harry, Gateshead

My Dad kept 3 crees, so about 50 hens I think? There might not be that many but there seemed like there might have been. I didn't look after them - my father looked after them. He didn't sell the eggs - everything was for us. There were 10 of us in the house - 5 lads and 5 lasses. We never wanted for anything. That was life. Only two cockerels and the rest were hens... for the eggs.

Elsie, Gateshead

My Dad kept hens, ducks and geese - he dug the pond they lived in himself. He had half a dozen at the beginning but they laid eggs and hatched so ended up with a couple of dozen - this was before the war. During the war, my mam looked after them while my dad was away in the navy. We used to give the folks around the area the eggs. People didn't sell things in them days. They just gave them away cos people needed things. We had more than we needed so we gave them away. We never went hungry like - we probably would have starved during the war if it weren't for the eggs.

My dad put them in the range to keep warm when they hatched during the winter.

Dorothy, Stockton

I lived in a farmhouse in the 30s so we had about half a dozen hens - I used to help out with them. There were no jobs so you had to go where the work was, and during the depression you went where the food was. We didn't sell them though because you had to register them if you wanted to sell the eggs. But I just went to feed them because that's just what you did. I didn't keep hens after I left home - I was sick of looking after them! They weren't like pets like they are today.

Jenny, Stockton

I kept hens when I worked on a farm when I was about 15. I liked farm work and I needed a job. There were hundreds! I helped clean them our, helped to feed them, lock them up, and put them away at night. The farm was in Halls during the war. Eggs were rationed so they were useful. I enjoyed it very much.'

Matty, Stockton

We mainly kept them during the war because eggs were rationed. You'd only get one per week so they were like gold. People always wanted an extra one, especially when they were making Christmas Cake and things.

Allison Dean, Newcastle

My aunt used to rescue battery hens, her mother-in-law used to keep them as pets. They would live free-range with my Aunty. I used to remember them. They used to stay behind the garage.

Ann Boyd, 56, Co. Durham

A young girl I fostered was really keen on looking after the hens'. She called her favourite hen lightening because it was fast. She had learning difficulties and thought she was training it to sit on her head etc even though she kept tight hold of it. She even kept hold of it while she was feeding the other hens, and she couldn't understand why it struggled so much to be put down.

Shona Branigan, Derwent Reservoir

Look up on Google the story of the headless chicken - in 1945 it had its head chopped off and lived for 2 years. It was fed into its neck with a pipette. So the myth of the headless chicken is true! It's an American story.

Mark Matthews, 51, Darlington

Remember having to feed the hens at my Grandma's house in Berwick. I was small enough to fit into the hen house so was always "elected" to go in with a bail of corn. I was petrified of the hens pecking at my legs which were bare due to only being 4/5/6 years old and wearing shorts all the time!!

Also called hens "Coochi Ha Ha's" (at that age!)

Dolan Conway, 55, Elvan Lodge

My wife's friend Sue had a cockerel with a damaged leg and it was the left leg. So it used to walk strangely on the right leg. And Sue, when she saw it walking said I'll call the hen Ministry of Silly Walks. She lives in Hartburn in Morpeth.

Fiona MacLeod, UK

I do remember aged 12 going to work one summer on a hen farm, collecting the eggs every morning. Some of the hens would peck me, so the young lads on the farm found me a pair of thick gloves so that I wouldn't be afraid of getting pecked!!! And one day I dropped the egg basket and was so horrified... my Dad offered to pay the farm owners but they laughed and said they enjoyed eating omlettes for breakfast! I earned £2 per week, and with the money bought myself a good Winter coat (my parents' idea), plus one goat (my idea... And that was the beginning of my goat breeding!!

Eggs were certainly a staple part of our diet... we were fairly poor and a large family. Meat was shepherd's pie once a week and bought cold ham, and roast chicken was really for special occasions like Christmas. My brother kept two hens, which he called Higgeldy and Piggeldy and which were NEVER killed and eaten: they were definitely pets.

We only had chicken meat on special occasions, particularly at Christmas. I remember one time, in Northern Ireland, around 1969, I would have been about 14 then, and my Mum asked me if I would help her kill a couple of chickens for Christmas. She said it was easier to kill them by putting their head under a broom handle, putting my feet either side of the chicken head (on the floor), then just giving a sharp pull up on the chicken body (I don't remember having to rush about to catch the hens... they were in a shed at back of house: I think they must have been bought in order to be killed and cooked). Anyway, I did as instructed! When I pulled up, using all the strength of my young years, to my horror, the chicken head came right off (poor beast!!) and her wings started to flap. I was so shocked I dropped the broom and the now headless chicken which immediately proceeded to walk and wing flap around the shed for quite a few minutes. I was appalled, and have NEVER killed a hen ever again. However I have to say I can't remember refusing to eat the delicious chicken meat that Christmas!

As children we loved being the one getting the wishbone and being able to make a wish...crocking our pinky fingers (little fingers) round the bone, silently making a wish and then pulling hard.. however got the bone with the sternum attached would have their wish come true!