Floofy chicken, cuddly chicken

            Before I started working at Peace Ridge Sanctuary, I did not know that chickens could be friendly. I suppose, thinking about it, any animal that has been living with humans for so many generations must have some ability to interact in a way other than "run away! A predator!" For the most part, the chickens are easy to work around. They tend to get out of the way when I enter their barn (sometimes with an offended clucking), and tend not to wait around for me to ask them to move. But one of the new arrivals this winter is a black and white Polish chicken with a remarkably floofy head, and a remarkably cuddly attitude.

            I noticed right away that she was not at all timid. When most of the other chickens had decided my barn-cleaning activity was too much trouble to hang out next to, she remained. She hopped around the shovel as I scooped, pecking at it and watching very closely for any interesting tidbits. Then she jumped up on the water container and kept an eye on me until I had scraped out the whole barn. But now I needed to replace the water, and she was sitting up there. I gently swept my arm toward her in a shooing gesture, which causes most of the chickens to hop out of the way. Not this floofy lady, though. She thought I was offering her a perch, and obligingly stepped right onto my arm.

 

            I have always found it amazing to hold a bird. When I was little, I had opportunities to hold cockatiels and parakeets, and I thought it was incredible to hold in my very hand a creature who could fly out of my reach at any time. Chickens do fly. Some of them are better at it than others. Generally, though, they are are good enough at flying to get out of reach in a hurry if they don't like the way you're looking at them.

            Floofy lady did not seem alarmed to find herself standing on my arm. I held her up in the air and looked at her, expecting her to depart at any moment. She turned her head, that silly tuft of feathers shaking, and I could tell she was peering at me even though I could not see her eye. I spoke to her, and she made some soft little chicken noises back at me. We looked at each other for a while, and then I tucked my arm close to my body. She nestled in and sat down, leaning against me. I stroked the side of her body and she cooed a bit. I don't know a lot about chicken vocabulary yet, but she seemed to be enjoying herself. 

              I did need to get back to work, though. More barns to clean, more ice to remove from buckets. So I held Floofy-head Lady up to a new perch, and after a moment's consideration she climbed on and settled down to watch me again.

            Several weeks later, it seemed like my new friend was not very happy with the other chickens in the chicken barn. They were pulling out her tail feathers. She was moved into the turkey barn with Fiona and Bernadette (our lady turkeys) and her very own rooster, Einstein. Einstein has some floof of his own, and they make a lovely pair. Einstein is very polite to her, offering to share the tasty morsels he finds with her and showing off how nice his little barn is. That barn is where I took these pictures of her on a rainy day this weekend. And this is Einstein on a snow day. (Winter is a terrible time to take pictures of white birds around here!)