We brought our birds home in the late summer as two-day-old babies, tiny fluff balls huddled together in cardboard boxes that seamed to weigh nothing at all. Aubrey and I had selected four ducklings and eight pullets (female chicks). Chicks that young are notoriously difficult to sex accurately, however, so we knew we were taking a gamble on how many of the birds would actually be future egg layers.
As they grew it was fascinating to see how the colors and patterns of their feathers changed. Very early on, one of the black chicks developed white marks on her wings, causing her to stand out from the others. Each week the pattern spread further as she grew larger. Something else we noticed that made her unique: she was always ready to stand her ground against Daphne the dog when the other chickens ran away.
For her flair and spunk I named her Zelda, after Zelda Fitzgerald, the iconic independent spirit and creative thinker of the Jazz Age. Once a wattle appeared and we heard her first crow, I only doubled down on the name and gender pronouns I was already using for her. She became the queen of the barnyard, ruling it like all the badass females I have ever known.
Zelda was an excellent flock manager, making sure all her girls got up to the coop safely at sundown and flaring her neck feathers at Daphne whenever she trotted past the run. She would scold me every time I fed them a little later than usual, and keep a close eye on me as I moved about her territory. As long I was bringing food or fresh bedding she tolerated me, but if I touched a hen (or a hen flew up and landed on me) she was ready to attack.
I was usually able to fend her off with a watering can, but one time she managed to claw my leg. Even though I was wearing jeans I still developed scabs and bruises. I grew increasingly concerned about the damage she might do to one of us someday. I wanted to trust that Aubrey or a bird-sitting neighbor could enter the poultry run without getting injured. As a family we deliberated our options and decided it was time to find Zelda a new home.
Thankfully, I was able to find someone willing to take her- a little farm supply store that breeds chicks year round. When Aubrey and I dropped her off we were cheered by the sound of the cheeping chicks, clucking hens, and crowing roosters we heard upon opening the door. We also discovered a tank of koi fish and grey cat curled up on feed bag. The vibrancy of the place reassured us that we had found the best new home for Zelda. Although our little flock feels a bit lonely without its queen, I am confident that she will establish herself as queen of her new flock in no time.
Angie Gustafson 