When Steve went out to feed the girls this morning, he noticed that Tweedledum was barely sitting up, and she was gasping for breath. We got her inside, put her in a cozy bed, and gave her dropperfuls of antibiotics mixed in water. We’ve had other hens with respiratory infections who we could nurse back to health. But, Silkies are not the most robust of breeds. Within a few hours of realizing that Tweedledum was sick, she died.

This is part of owning chickens — some become ill and die — but it’s never easy. Tweedledum was my son’s much loved hen. True to her Silkie nature, she was gentle and a bit dim-witted. She was always out of the fray, and for such a tiny and unassuming hen was surprisingly never picked on by the other girls. She was the chicken I’d give to a three-year old child to hold in a lap. She was the one that made us laugh just by looking at her. We’ll miss her.

As you’ve probably noticed, the girls have a new “friend” in the chicken yard. Each hen had a different reaction. Aloof Perrie ignored it. Edwina and Eleanor gave it a wide berth. Petunia checked to see if it was edible and quickly lost interest. Snowball walked right up, stared at it, circled it, and eyeballed the stranger some more. Tweedledum wandered over, decided that here was a new friend, and stood companionably next to the pumpkin for the afternoon.

To everyone in the USA – Happy Thanksgiving!

Some of us look at hatchery catalogs like the proverbial child in a candy shop. The varieties of poultry look so appealing that we want one of each. I even heard about a man who tried to collect a hen of every breed, but he stopped at 89.

However, the truth is, just like a dog lover doesn’t necessarily love all breeds equally, a chicken fancier finds some chickens nicer than others. And although some people are attracted to birds with spots, or those with feathered legs, it’s not always about looks. In fact, the backyard hen owners that I know all use personality as the first criteria for choosing birds.

My own preference are for the classic “big brown hens.” I like personable, friendly, solid chickens. Marge is a favorite. Her looks are nothing special – she’s a basic New Hampshire Red –  but when I step into the chicken yard she comes right up, looks me in the eye and starts cackling. She talks like an old, complaining Aunt I remember from my childhood. I also love my Australorps, Blackie and Twinkydink. They don’t talk much, but they are calm and pleasant to be around.

I’m not partial to our one Araucana, Perrie. She’s watchful and wary, never chats with me, and has no friends in the flock. But I know a woman in town who loves Araucanas best. She likes how they have hawk-like eyes. She likes their intelligence and aloofness, and of course, the colorful eggs are wonderful.

For children, nothing is better than a silkie. Not the smartest of hens, but as gentle and placid and affectionate as they get. And little. Put a silkie in the arms of a youngster, and it will be carried around to the delight of both child and chicken.

Have a favorite breed? Tell me about it!

I’ve been buying old poultry magazines, books and catalogs, and they are a lesson in how agriculture has changed. The Poultry Item from 1928 has an article about poultry houses. It says, “To do well, the fowls require room.” It goes on to state, “Sunlight and fresh air are powerful disinfectants and germ destroyers. Pure fresh air and direct sunlight will do more to protect your flocks, prevent diseases, and in many cases effect a cure of ailments and injuries than anything you can buy at the drug store.” The Hillview Leghorns Poultry Farms catalog from 1939 has photos of hundreds of leghorns and australorps on pasture.

But by 1947, the Poultry Tribune has advertisements for “heavy duty battery” cages and a photo of an experimental farm that shows no animals outside, just manicured lawns.

The covers of the old magazines have delightful graphics, of children feeding chicks, and prize winners posed on hay bales, and of farmers standing in fields with hens. But forward to 1958 and the Poultry Tribune‘s cover has a man who “makes easy work of cage chores.” He is shown pushing a feeder down an aisle between rows of battery hens. Need I mention the ads in that issue from companies selling debeakers, cages and ventilators? The magazines from the 1950s are also the first ones that have articles and ads praising antibiotics.

My stack of magazines shows me how quickly – a matter of just a few years after WWII – that raising poultry went from being “farming” to “industry.” It’s going to be harder to change back, but there’s some good people out there doing it. They’re still farming.

I was at an LDEI conference in Kansas City last week. LDEI is a philanthropic organization of “women of achievement in the food professions.” I’ve been a member for six years, and at each year’s annual conference I am amazed at what these women accomplish and how much they give back to their communities. Currently, LDEI’s focus is on sustainable, local foodways. On Sunday, about 25 of us toured a wonderful family-owned and operated poultry and egg farm, Campo Lindo.

In our group were well-known restaurateurs, food columnists and influential consultants. Many of them write about food issues and advocate for green spaces. And yet none of them knew the simplest things about what the small poultry farmer needs to survive! They didn’t know that chicks are sent through the mail, and if we lose that right, that small farms and hatcheries will go out of business. They didn’t understand that the threats of bioterrorism and avian flu are being used as excuses to regulate the small producer out of business. They knew little of the good that 4-H does and nothing about the role that the “poultry fancy” and our backyard breeders have in maintaining genetic diversity.

These women were interested, they were concerned; they are intelligent, and they are influential. What did I do? I talked about my girls. Made it personal. Kept it upbeat. I am convinced that the more people hear from people like myself and others who live with domesticated farm animals, the more that they understand how we live alongside these animals, the better off we all will be. What can you do? Invite neighbors over to see your coop. Have a farm tour day. Call a food reporter and invite her to collect eggs; send her home with a dozen and suggest some recipes. Invite a preschool to your farm. I don’t need to remind you to keep it positive  – if you have hens in your life, you’re bound to talk about them as glowingly as a grandparent showing off family pictures.