After writing about “cuddling cows” recently, imagine my surprise to hear about senior-aged people gaining benefits from holding and petting chickens. It has made me stop and think about the years that we raised chickens on the ranch.

When I was growing up, chickens were important to our survival. We relied on them for eggs and meat. Having a supply of eggs on hand was especially necessary because we weren’t close to a grocery store (nor did we go out that much during the winter), and Mom did a lot of cooking.

So each spring Mom ordered baby chicks, some cockerels (to grow up to be fryers) and some pullets (to grow up to be layers). Sometimes she ordered the leghorn breed, a white, lightweight chicken that produced a not-so-meaty rooster but a great laying hen. Other times she ordered a heavier breed.

The chicks arrived at the Hamilton Post Office in a large box with poles poked in it. Uncle Albert Ottens, the postmaster and owner of the Hamilton Store, got word to Mom about the chicks. In the days that we didn’t have a phone in the house, he put a note in the mail sack that the carrier brought to us three times a week. If a neighbor showed up, he sent a word-of-mouth message. Then Dad and Mom went to the post office and picked up the chicks so they could be fed and watered.

The chicks grew up in a brooder house behind the main house where heat lamps kept them warm, but sometimes the chicks arrived early and the brooder house wasn’t ready. In that case, Mom  made a little “pen” behind the heater in the main house where they could stay for a few days.

I remember taking the chicks out of the box the first time. We held onto each one in a particular way so that we could put its beak into water. Then we set them next to a chick mash or chopped-up and mashed boiled eggs. If frightened, chicks will run together in a corner and can suffocate so we had to be careful not to scare them.

Grown-up chickens lived in a log building with a dirt floor. The chicken house had two rooms, one with roosts and the other with food and nests. During the summer the chickens were let out to roam and shut up at night.

I don’t remember having any “pet” chickens, though we could pick some of them up. One year our aunt gave us some bantam chickens, a small, multicolored breed that lay really small eggs. As I remember, they are a more gentle breed. What I do remember are the grown leghorn roosters that Mom saved (I’m not sure why). They roamed around behind the house in the summer, and unfortunately they were always in the pathway to the outhouse. They were feisty, indeed, flying up at us and attacking with their beaks and the spurs on their feet.

My sister Darlene (Blackford) has some small reddish-brown hens that she loves. One or two of them ride along on a motorized cart as Darlene and Miner do chores around the ranch. I can see why people might feel the soothing benefits in spending time with chickens.