Keeping Hens

Three years ago this summer, we brought home four little hens on a whim.

At the time, the idea was simple enough: a few chickens tucked into the vegetable garden, a handful of eggs each day, and a little more life in the backyard.

Somehow, four became fourteen.

Our flock is made up entirely of bantams—Silkies, Cochins, a Lavender Orpington, a Frizzle, and a few others—and each seems to have her own little personality. They follow us around the garden, come running for blueberries and tomatoes, and a few have even developed a fondness for kale straight from the plant.

The coop itself is a little piece of our home, too. I sketched my dream chicken coop and selected materials, and my husband built everything by hand, bringing it together exactly as I had imagined. It has become one of those things in the backyard that feels as though it has always been there.

Every morning, I make my way out to the coop with our two-year-old son to gather eggs and say good morning to the girls. It is a small ritual, but one we’ve really come to love and look forward to.

This month, we lost one of our original four hens. Her name was Iris. She was the sweetest, friendliest little chicken—always the first to greet us when we let the hens out each evening, and the first to ever give us an egg. Somehow, that first egg still feels like such a small but memorable beginning to everything the coop and garden have since become.

There is something so lovely about keeping hens.

The garden growing around you. The sound of chickens in the morning. A few eggs gathered for breakfast.

Small things, but the kind that make home feel a little more connected to the life happening just outside the door.

— Kylie