Paging Dr Phil

Just when I thought things were finally settling down at Fractured Farm after the addition of six Rhode Island Red chicks and doubling the flock...

Oh, it started innocently enough. Buttercup has always wanted his cuddles and Goosey has gotten into the habit of hopping up next to me in the afternoon, waiting for an invitation to my lap. One of the Red chicks likes to climb up my back and perch on my shoulder like a parrot when I'm trying to do chores; hence her name, Polly. So one day I sat on a straw bale with Polly on my shoulder, Buttercup under my arm and Goosey on my lap. Or so I thought, until Goosey marched up to the interloper on my lap and began pecking her on the head!

Goosey looks exactly like another one of our Orpington hens, except she has black spots on her tail feathers. I checked the attacker and yep, it was Goosey. I was surprised, because she was the only Orpie who'd ever shown any interest in affection before! The one in my lap looked up at me for a minute, then laid her head down on my arm and I turned into a puddle of goo. I had a lovey baby, so of course I called her Lovey.

I fended off Goosey's attacks on Lovey while trying to figure out how to get both of them on my lap. It might have been easier if I didn't have a Silkie rooster under one arm and a six week old Rhode Island Red chick peering into my eye. How did I lose control? I just wanted chickens for safe eggs. I live somewhat close to the contaminated egg factories from a few years ago, and the new bird flu outbreak area. It seemed reasonable, but I didn't plan on them becoming jealous, needy little things.

Buttercup got shoved out from under my arm in all the chaos and promptly threw a tantrum. He did his stomping dance and bit my ankle, as if to say, "this is all your fault!"

"What did I do? I didn't do anything."

Polly decided she'd had enough of the drama and flew off my shoulder. Lovey and Goosey left too, occasionally pecking at each other and Buttercup was completely done with me.

I don't know what I'm going to do with them. Especially Polly, when she's not a four inch tall chick, but a full grown chicken trying to climb up my back and sit on my shoulder.