Contemplated by a Chicken

A lady brought me a rooster named Hezzy and a hen named Zelda. Apparently she's not zoned for roosters in Encino, and after two years a neighbor finally complained. She was freaked out that animal control would take her babies from her, rip the chickens from her arms like Sophie's Choice, so she put an ad on Craigslist for Free Hen and Rooster. Which is like saying "I would like to buy you dinner." For most people. But for people like me, who secretly sneak to Craigslist Farm and Garden section at night to look at pictures of sheep (come on, people, you know you do it), a free farm animal that someone is willing to drive to you is like my version of adventure.

The lady shows up and I go out in my bathing suit and suddenly we're hugging and she says you want me to bring them in, and I say are they in a box or something and she says no. Then she opens her back door and her chickens are just sitting back there (I should say shitting back there because, well) and that is way too nice a car for transporting unboxed or at least undiapered chickens. Chickens are the Jackson Pollack of animals - their poop is a painting and it does not smell good or wash out well. We carried the chickens into the back, all the while I was thinking if this rooster is loud we will eat him and the lady is telling me she's had them for 2 years, they live in a cage in her house, and she lets them out during the day. She feeds them out of a bowl, in her house. They are apparently used to the rap star lifestyle - fed while lounging, and allowed to crap on carpet.

We put them in with our chickens. She was happy to see what they would do - they had never seen other chickens before. The rooster was more ginger about checking things out, the hen was kicking some serious butt, telling all my hens that the party was definitely over, and she'd be taking charge now. Eventually all my hens cleared out, mumbling what the hell, but okay.

I have one hen who is broody, hanging on the nest and thinking she's hatching eggs. So I am waiting for Zelda to pop out an egg so I can stick it under the waiting, wanting to be a momma hen. If the rooster is not too loud, I'd like to keep him and have fertile eggs, so I can live my dream of being a true chicken farmer. No that is not my dream. But when you have a hen looking at you with her little eyes, saying can't I hatch a freaking egg please? I kind of feel like Free Rooster can help her here. I am only the tool. Plus I like getting hugs and free animals from strangers. I like being the person that people bring stuff to. I like talking to people, and hearing how they manage their lives.

So it's the second day now, and I was swimming today and the rooster actually stopped and looked at me. He had never seen a pool or a flailing white person in water. He just observed, curious. I like being contemplated by chickens. He has a ridiculous huge red comb on his head, he looks like he just got back from Mardi Gras. I think I should call him Marty Graw, even though we are already calling him Spaghetti because his feathers hang all tasselly around him like spaghetti.

The lady fed them dog food out of a can from Costco - she even offered to buy the dog food and bring it to me. Like forever, I thought? I didn't want to say I wouldn't be feeding her hen dog food, because her hen was a hen, but she cared so much about her chickies, I just listened, and told her there would be no shortage of food here at our house. All leftovers and sandwich crusts do not go unloved.

The rooster is minding his manners, he is proud and loud by nature, but we'll see if he can stay living here. His crow is sort of short and warbly, not like the car alarm half hour long crowing that the last rooster we tried out for one day had. I like where he comes from, I like that he doesn't appear to want to attack the children, and his presence makes life in LA less city and more farm. I gather the farm (and the people who bring me the farm) around me and it keeps me warm.