Connor Clarke

It all started when I went round my friends house, he blurted out that he had chickens with Afros (silkies) and we had to have a look. Sure enough they did, and that's where I caught the chicken madness...

Over time I hassled my mum enough for her to buy me some barbu duccles. They were the best chickens I ever had. Then I rescued some ex batteries and sizzles, they had the biggest personalities. Summer went by and I ended up hatching (both naturally and artificially), rearing chicks inside and outside, selling the eggs and POL chickens. I'm glad I went round my friends house to see the chooks or I wouldn't have my chickens now

Paul Perryman

Carol, UK

My hubby always wanted chickens, so when we were in a position to do so, we got 6 cuckoo Marans hens and a cockerel. They were allowed free rein in the garden, and my flatcoated retriever, Moss, got used to them strolling around and often sat surrounded by chooks. Our first brood failed (too dry in the coop for the eggs) but learning from our experience, we hatched (or rather Eglantine did!) a second brood of delightful fluffy chicks. When they were out and about in the garden, it became too much for Moss, my dog. He hated to see them running away from Mum, and would go and pick them up in his soft mouth and put them back in the coop or bring them to us.. completely unscathed. They had to be kept in order! Eglantine wasn't very impressed, but Moss felt it was his duty to be co-mum

Sophie Hunter, UK

What got me into chickens?  Well that would be the animal house my high school used to have, it's also where my first 2 ever chickens come from. 2 tiny utterly beautiful black tailed white Japanese banties, originally called Nono & Ellen (I named them Gretchen & Matilda). I was told by my teacher they were going to be put to sleep as they were too old (aged 4) to breed. so I paid him £5 and took them away. Aged 8 they incubated eggs for me & gave me 4 chicks. aged 11 I got another 2 chicks incubated. These chicks became my flock. after being told they were useless aged 4 they lived another 6 1/2 (Gretchen) & 7 years (Matilda). they introduced me into the wonderful world of chickens.

Frances Corlett, UK

I grew up in the 70's. Our family home was an old farmhouse on the edge of the moor in the Yorkshire Dales. My parents were really into self sufficiency. With my father having the most amazing vegetable garden. We had lots of chickens, ducks, geese, bantams and guinea fowl. We were forever finding broody hens sitting on nests. Sometimes if the hen had left the nest, my Dad would put the eggs in the kitchen draw next to the Aga. I remember on one occasion, whilst Sunday lunch was being prepared. When we opened the draw to get the big serving spoon out (for the Apple Crumble) a chick jumped out and ran over the top of the crumble ! Mum and Dad had forgotten all about the eggs they had put in the draw a few days earlier !

They were very much a part of our family. We were always having 'sick' chickens or young chicks that had been abandoned kept in a box by the side of the Aga, with the hope that they would get better. Some did some didn't ! We loved having them, such friendly pets.

My sister and I had to put them to bed every night whatever the weather. But we didn't have to let them out in the morning, as we had to leave the house at 7.45 to catch the school bus.

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.