Do Chickens Have Feelings?

I guess it all began with my grandparents; my love for animals, that is. Here's my grandmother Edith Knight, who married my grandfather William Whobrey. Grandma always had a flock of chickens, and Grandpa always had a collie dog. So I always wanted a flock of chickens. (I suspect the ones in the photo are Rhode Island Reds.)

As a young child I couldn't wait to explore Grandma's chicken house. I'd grab a couple of ears of corn and scatter the kernels onto the ground in an attempt to get my hands on those lovely, wiley hens. Didn't work. I love the 'Rhodies', Hamburgs, and Wyandottes, but above all, my favorites are Buff Orpingtons - in particular, one called Rose. She taught me much about her kind.

Here's where I should probably back up. My sister and I use to look forward to our annual vacation at Grandma and Grandpa's. Who knew what surprise awaited us. There could be chicks out on the back porch or in a cardboard box by the coal stove. Or kittens up in the loft of the old garage. But here I have to confess, that more than anything, I couldn't wait to see Lassie. Yes, I am a product of the 50's, and like so many others our age, we were introduced to the wonderful life of "Lassie" which aired every Sunday night. I might add this was about the only night Dad was with us so he would have to wait until we girls were satisfied that Timmy was once again saved by the smartest dog in the world. Gunsmoke and Maverick would have to wait.

Our Lassie was the sweetest dog ever. She greeted you with just as much love and excitement as Grandma and Grandpa would after our long, hot, challenging car ride to southern Illinois. (Remember, no air-conditioned cars back then.) I say challenging in respect to my folks. We girls were crammed into the back seat among pillows, new coloring books and crayons, and whatever else mom could think of to keep us busy. Inevitably, the fussing would start and the "Mom, she's looking at me." or "Mom, she's touching me." would start. Oh, did I forget the "Are we there yet?" Then before you knew it we were in Grandma's big soft hug, secretly bracing ourselves for Grandpa's poke-poke in the side.

After Lassie died, Laddie became the guardian of the farm. Grandma would write to me about his adventures; how he killed a snake in the back garden, how he patrolled the farm every day, and how he never seemed to gain any weight because he was so busy running everything off. Dinner for him was leftovers from the kitchen table with hunks of torn up Bunny Bread covered in sausage milk gravy. Today our animals are fed gourmet food produced in large factories and they are cared for as diligently as a physician would his own child.

While we spoil our animals at Hill Spring, we've TRIED to strike a balance. And that brings me to Rose. Rose is a lovely Buff Orpington that I purchased at a local county fair. She runs to greet me and often jumps up on my arm to fuss at me about the latest cache of grubs, worms and that nasty old rooster Hank (who she hates). Last year she hatched two beautiful little chicks. She was the proudest mama. I watched how she showed them to scratch the earth, preen their feathers, and cluck "no no ... BIG bumble bees are not good to eat."

I was down by the horse stable one day when all of a sudden my husband hollered that our dog had something yellow in his mouth. I ran to the hen house where I found to my dismay one of Rose's babies had accidentally slipped through the fence. I was heartbroken. Even though she saw us remove the body, Rose refused to stop looking for her chick. I felt so awful that I just sat down in the chicken yard. Then a remarkable thing happened. She came over to me, crawled into my lap and rested her head on my leg, being ever so still. She let me console her by allowing me to pet and talk to her ... or perhaps she was consoling me. I'm not sure which, but at that moment I began to wonder, "Are chickens more perceptive than we give them credit for?" I told my husband about what happened that day and he said, "You know, it's a chicken. Maybe you shouldn't tell anyone. They're going to think you're losing it, hon."