Last week saw a small village just north of Ullapool hold its annual celebration of the humble chook.
The event, Elphin Chicken Day, raised £2,600 for the upkeep and maintenance of the local hall. Hundreds of poultry fans flocked there, and organisers reported a “cracking turn out”.
The main race was won by Penelope Peckstop, owned by Sidney Harrison. Other awards were given for the most beautiful chicken and cockerel, as well as the throw-an-egg-as-far-as-you-can-without-breaking-it challenge, and the three-legged egg and spoon race.
This fun day has made a triumphant return after a two-year break, when Covid stopped the eggstravaganza. But what exactly is so great about chickens?
There are around 33 billion of the birds in the world. Domesticated poultry, with their ability to produce meat and eggs, provide a major contribution to nutrition worldwide. But, apart from their obvious value as food producers, I think they are amazing birds.
My poultry obsession started in 2018, with four rescue chickens from the British Hen Welfare Trust. I decided to get some, in part – in a middle-class way – to provide them with a better retirement home, but with the added bonus of eggs.
However, I wasn’t entirely sure about the whole thing. My dad kept hens when I was growing up in rural Angus, but I hadn’t had a lot to do with looking after them.
Chickens are smart, affectionate and surprising
The hen is one of the closest living relatives of the Tyrannosaurus rex, along with ostriches and alligators. But, never be duped by their bird-brained reputation – they are smart and can recognise people.
They are a joy to spend time with. Watching them interact is like a microcosm of humanity
If I step out the back door, I’m mobbed, but it is not the same response for anyone else. Of course, I feed them but, as omnivores, they aren’t picky about what they eat. I’ve seen them munch slugs, mice and frogs, dashing around to pinch the tasty treat from their rivals’ beaks.
I often wonder if I keeled over in the hen run, whether they would pick my bones clean like vultures.
Still, they are a joy to spend time with. Watching them interact is like a microcosm of humanity. It’s hard not to be swept up by flock politics; they are constantly squabbling.
The birds each have their own unique personality. Some are generous, some greedy and, if you are tuned in to the chat, it’s better than an episode of your favourite soap.
If I’m ever stressed, all I need to do is step outside and visit the hens. There is no better feeling than a chicken deciding that your wellies are the best place in the world to sunbathe. They spread their wings, stick out a leg, and snore – yes, chickens snore.
Catriona Thomson is a freelance food and drink writer
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