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.

Julie and Andrew Snell

Eileen Nicholson

My story is only from about three weeks ago.

I was in the garden, cleaning the coop and run, and the dogs and the chooks were just bumbling about the garden.

After a while, I realized that not only had no one tripped me up for a while, but that it had gone awfully quiet. Looked about - not a hair or a feather anywhere! I fair panicked, thinking they'd escaped some how so ran indoors, checking the undergrowth and bushes on the way, and saw I'd left the backdoor open.

The chooks often steal my dogs' dinners, if they can sneak in so I headed for the kitchen. No dogs, no chooks.

Was about to proper panic and headed for the stairs to wake my OH up (he's a night-worker) to panic him too, when as I passed the living room I heard a 'bok'.

Popped my head round the door and there are the two dogs, sitting comfortably, one either end of the couch and my three Ladies sitting in the middle WATCHING TV!

Oh, I SO wish I was a modern techie person with the mobile always to hand, but I'm not - it was on charge in the kitchen...

P. Yovhill

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!)

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!

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!

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.

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.

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!

Councillor Marilyn Charter, Newcastle

My 20 month old son would get up at 5 o'clock in the morning. Running around the house we didn't want him to wake the old men in the house up. Me Mam says we'll lift him over the fence and put him in the field outside. He ran and didn't stop running. My mum got the binoculars. Saw him go into the farm yard. He went straight after the hens and went straight into the hen house. So me mam had to phone the farmer up and say 'can I get my grandson back, he's in your hen house?'.

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.

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.