A Matter of Breeding

For some people, raising chickens involves minimal preparation: pop by the local Tractor Supply Company for a few chicks, plop them into a Rubbermaid tote with food, water, and heat, then -- once the weather's better -- move them to a mail-ordered coop out back. Thanks for the eggs, ladies! We'll do our best to keep the neighbor's cat away from you.

Ask one of these backyard poultry aficionados what type of chickens they are raising, and chances are you'll get one of the following answers:

A. Breed?
B. Ummm... they lay brown eggs.
C. Whatever Tractor Supply was selling.
D. Don't know. They were just the cutest little things!

As long as their hens produce plenty of eggs and keep their cackling to a minimum, these folks are happy. They could care less if the chickens pecking at their marigolds are Blue-Laced Red Wyandottes or Red Productions.

Obviously, we're not these folks.

Having made the decision to raise a half-dozen hens on our acreage, J and I next outlined the steps we would take to ensure a successful venture. Both of us would design the brooder, where our day-old chicks would live for the first two months of their lives. I would be in charge of selecting the breed(s) we'd raise, with J's input, while J would be in charge of building the coop, with my input. The kids would assist, to the best of their abilities, with the feeding and handling of the birds as well as with the egg collection, under my supervision as Head Chicken Wrangler. J would serve as Chicken Tech Support and Custodial Services. No haphazard, on-a-whim decisions for us! We had everything planned out.

Until I started researching chicken breeds, that is. Who knew that there were more than 120 varieties of chickens? Even more surprising: some of the breeds had strikingly beautiful plumage and coloring, even more vivid than that of the wild birds that visit our feeders. I found myself writing down name after name of these stunning breeds, because of course the birds I'd raise would be eye catching. This approach worked very well... if we were planning on raising 30 different breeds. Back to the drawing board!

Thinking experience might guide me, I decided to ask around and see what our friends with hens recommended. "Buff Orpingtons!" my friend T enthusiastically told me. T's hens were very docile, followed her around her yard, and even allowed her to paint their toes with nail polish.

Our friend P went a different route. "Rhode Island Reds," she said. "They're absolutely the best layers you can get."

"You can't go wrong with Rhode Island Reds," her daughter SG added.

Finally, our friend K suggested we consider what we wanted as our end result. "Our chickens lay brown eggs, white eggs, and blue," she told us. "But what type of chicken you get really depends on what you want from it."

What did we want from our birds? I knew that we wanted them to be good, if not great, layers. This was supposed to be our side business, after all. Yes, we wanted our kids to get more in touch with where their food originates, and by raising our own hens we'd know exactly what was going into their eggs. We also knew that farm-fresh eggs were of superior quality to store-bought ones, with much richer, darker yolks and a much higher percentage of vitamins. J was counting on people's desire to eat healthier foods to fuel our egg business.

Factor #1: Our hens had to be top-notch layers.

There were many breeds, however, that laid well. Having watching Food, Inc. and The Meatrix, and having read about factory farms, I definitely did not want any mass-market chickens. If we were going back to our agrarian roots, we would raise traditional hens, ones with a firm farming heritage. This way, we'd also be doing our part to help conserve breeds that had been adversely affected by the commercial poultry business. That took the Rhode Island Reds right out of the running.

Factor #2: Our hens would be heritage birds.

J felt all of this was well and good, but that our eggs needed to have presence, some sort of gimmick to ensure their salability. I agreed. Farm-fresh eggs were great, but farm-fresh white eggs were boring. Brown was better... but dark chocolate brown, sky blue, pink, and green even more so. I wanted our hens to lay a painter's palette of eggs. Opening an egg carton to discover the eggs were already naturally colored for Easter would be a huge selling point.

Factor #3: No white-egg layers.

These factors met with J's requirements, but I had some of my own as well. These chickens wouldn't only be food producers; they'd be our kids' pets as well. M, who was planning to attend veterinary school, had no problem handling animals. N had little exposure to pets, however, and JTR had always been very hesitant near animals. I didn't foresee a problem with B who, at 4, could already identify most of the wild birds on our property. Because of B's age, because of our middle sons' hesitancy, and to aid M in whatever poultry homework he might have at college, our hens needed to be extremely docile birds.

Factor #4: Active, flighty, aggressive birds would not be joining our flock.

I also knew that, besides the egg business, another poultry venture lay right at our fingertips: chicks! If we were going to be raising heritage birds, and more and more people were becoming interested in backyard flocks, they'd have to get their chicks from somewhere. I knew that a good number of people did not like the idea of ordering chicks from hatcheries. They felt that packing and shipping day-old babies through the U.S. postal system was barbaric, and they would prefer to get their chicks from local breeders. We could be those local breeders! Our hens, therefore, had to have the tendency to go "broody," or, in other words, be inclined to sit on their eggs and hatch them, a trait that had been bred out of many chicken breeds. With a few broody hens and a rooster or two, we'd be rolling in chicks in no time.

Factor #5: We'd raise hens with a brooding instinct.

Factor #6: We'd need at least one rooster at some point in the future.

Factor #7: I still wanted them to be pretty.

There! I'd drawn up a list of factors that would affect my choice of breeds. Back to the chicken book I went! A handy chart at the front of the book outlined the standard breeds and their egg/meat abilities, temperament, their aesthetic qualities, and their ability to withstand weather. Uh oh. With our harsh Michigan winters, the last thing I wanted was a bunch of chicksicles, and I sure didn't want to have to treat hens for frostbitten combs.

Factor #8: Our birds had to be cold hardy.

I scanned the chart for cold-hardy, beautiful, docile heritage hens that were excellent layers of colored eggs... and promptly got nowhere. I was able to draw up a preliminary list of lovely layers who were docile and cold hardy but, for identifying egg colors and lineage, I'd have to call on the combined resources of books, magazines, and Internet. After a couple of hours, my list looked like this:

Buff Orpington: an extremely docile bird, very cold hardy, affectionate and gentle with children and other breeds. A frequent layer of large, brown eggs, and listed as "recovering" by the American Poultry Association, after its numbers dwindled due to small farms giving way to factory farming. The Buff Orpington is also one of the largest chickens, with beautiful golden feathers, and has tendencies to go broody. There are several breeds of Orpington, including white, black, and blue. I really had wanted the Lavender Orpington, whose feathers are a lovely pale purple, but it turned out that lavender is a recessive trait and extremely rare to find, much less breed. Buff Orpington it was!

Silver-Laced Wyandotte: also a large, cold-hardy, and docile bird, tolerant of other chicken breeds. Like the Orpington, the Wyandotte is a frequent layer of large, brown eggs and is listed as "recovering." Each of its white feathers are laced, or outlined, in dark silver. Definitely a stunner.

Araucana: a medium-sized bird, hardy and docile, that frequently lays beautiful sky-blue, green, and pink eggs. The variety of colors of its eggs is this bird's saving grace because, to be blunt, it's one ugly bird, with ear tufts that resemble Civil War-era sideburns and no tail at all. The Araucana is currently under study to determine the breed's conservation status.

Cochin: a very cold-hardy bird that lays large brown eggs all year long, although not at the frequency of the Wyandotte and Orpington. Cochins are very docile, often raised as pets by children, and are excellent mothers that gladly accept eggs from other breeds to brood. What sold me, however, was the bird's plumage: flowing, fluffy feathers -- even on its legs! -- that make this large-sized chicken look more jumbo than it is. Cochins are so aesthetically pleasing that even Queen Victoria raised them. The breed is being watched for its conservation status.

Silkie: not cold hardy, or heat hardy, for that matter. Hens lay small, tinted eggs perhaps once per week. Originating from Asia, they don't merit conservation watch status. Tiny -- a full-grown hen weighs in at about two pounds. So why the heck did Silkies make the cut? Three reasons: they are amongst the most docile chickens around, so much so that they are often raised inside the house as pets. Silkies are also the broodiest of all the chicken breeds, happily accepting eggs from other breeds as well as from other species such as geese, pheasants, and ducks, then raising the babies despite their difference in appearance and size. And finally... just look at the bird! Who could resist a fluffball like that?

J was none too pleased but grudgingly admitted that the Silkies would be good for JTR and B, and that their broody tendencies made them an essential part of our future chick-breeding program.

That made five breeds of chickens. We had only planned on getting six chicks. Ever hear of birds of a feather? Solitary birds do not thrive as well as do birds that have a companion from its own breed. We couldn't get just one of each; we had to get at least two. After discussion and recalculation, we upped the number to 12: three Opringtons, three Wyandottes, two Araucanas, two Cochins, and two Silkies.

"You're getting Silkies?" P cooed. "I want one! Let me know when you order, and maybe I'll go in with you!"

When time came to place the order, however, I encountered the difficulties mentioned earlier -- none of the main hatcheries had all the chicks we wanted in the quantities we wanted. Only one -- McMurray Hatcheries in Iowa -- had them all, but we had to order a minimum of 25.

"P says that she'll go in on the order, so I can round out the number by getting more Silkies," I informed J.

"If we have to get more chicks, we might as well get ones we'll use," he replied. "Get more Buffs and Silvers."

Our order was therefore placed, with six Buff Orpington females (the total number of chicks we'd originally planned to get), six Silver-Laced Wyandotte females, five Araucana females, four White Cochin females, and four Buff Silkie straight runs. Apparently, Silkies are impossible to sex (have their gender identified) until they are about three to four months old, so we had to play Chicken Roulette and hope that our four chicks would be females. McMurray also threw in one "free rare mystery chick" with our order, so who knew what we were getting, other than it would be a heritage breed. Twenty-six chicks ordered. We were done!

Until a few days later, when I was browsing the McMurray web site again, noticed the Columbian Wyandottes, and simply had to have them, too. Instead of silver-laced feathers, the Columbians had black-streaked necks, white bodies, and black tail feathers. Absolutely striking! I grabbed my cell phone and asked to have three added to our order. And, on a whim, I added two white-crested black Polish chicks. I'd seen these on display at our country fair last summer and found them adorable, with a huge mop-top of feathers cresting over their heads. From my research, I knew that they were docile with other hens and with children, and thought a pair would be simply stunning.

"Why did McMurray just email us an updated order?" J demanded a few minutes later over the phone. I sheepishly admitted to having fallen victim to chicken math and confessed about the five new additions.

"No Polish!!" he responded, graciously allowing the Columbians to join our burgeoning poultry pack. I was on the phone with McMurray a few minutes later, removing the fluff-topped Polish from our order.

That made 29 chicks headed our way.

Until I was browsing the Meyer Hatchery web site a few days later and noticed that the availability for the Cuckoo Maran -- the chocolate egg layer -- had changed from Not Available to Limited Availability for the date that McMurray was shipping our 29 chicks. J knew how disappointed I was that McMurray didn't have any Cuckoo Marans; I thought those dark brown eggs would be a huge seller, and they laid as well as the Opringtons and Wyandottes. If I called right away, I'd be able to score a trio of Cuckoo Marans and have them arrive at the same time as our McMurray chicks!

Twenty-nine became 32. Or rather, 33. I couldn't resist throwing in another Buff Orpington chick, a rooster this time.

Our breeding program had to start somewhere!

When I confessed to J that I'd ordered a few more chicks, he immediately guessed what I'd gotten. "Cuckoo Marans, right?" I nodded, and he sighed. "At least they fit into our original plan with those eggs of theirs and their French pedigree," he said, adding that three or four more chicks was not as big a deal now as it had been when we went from six to 12, since we'd already have the food and accommodations for them. "But," he told me sternly, "This is it! No more surprises, right? No more chicks. We're already getting more than I'd intended, so we're spending more than what I'd planned. We've got our flock of heritage birds, and we're stopping at 33. Got it?"

I got it. Thirty-three chicks did seem a little daunting, but I'd chosen to increase our numbers so I would handle the responsibilities for our flock. After all the time and research I had poured into selecting the breeds that were right for us, you'd better believe I'd be taking care of our birds! I'd practically hand picked them, so I felt rather protective of those little chicks.

Which is why I'm rather mystified by the seven baby chicks J bought at Tractor Supply. Breed? Unknown. But they were just the cutest little things!