My first flock of chickens was a bit of a drunken adventure. We were living in town at the time and as a result were rather close to various drinking establishments.
We’d been sitting at the bar and talking with a friend, he mentioned one of his housemates had moved to South America for the summer and left them with 7 chickens. And the chickens where getting eaten in the night, so of course a deal was made. We’d come get the chickens and they wouldn’t have to worry about it.
When we picked up the chickens they were down to four or five chickens, two Barred Rocks, a Rhode Island Red and a Leghorn. They got names, Plague and Pestilence were the Barred, Pox was the Rhode and Panic the Leghorn.
Over time Plague and Pestilence got eaten in the night (probably a raccoon) and it was very sad and very messy. Then Pox was taken in the daytime, probably by a hawk. That death was just a squawk and a drift of feathers left. Panic quickly started roosting in the trees at night, then roosting next door with the neighbor’s Buffs. Then Panic vanished and we were without chickens.
Of course I started to plot and plan my next flock as soon as it was obvious we’d need to get more chickens. Flock #2 we got as day olds from the co-op. More on that flock later.