Socialization is critical in all types of relationships. Getting to know others, their likes and dislikes, their foibles and follies, is an essential part of life. This process is important at both the human level and in the animal kingdom.
For the past few weeks, I have been experiencing the unfolding of a new social dynamism domestically. In this context, I refer not to the human concourse, but rather to that of gallinaceous activity outside the domain of human beings.
The current manifestation of this phenomenon commenced over a month ago when a friend brought me three Rhode Island Red chickens to join our other hens in the barnyard. Initially, I was concerned as to how they all would mix and get along with each other, thus for the first few days I kept them apart from the older residents, but in proximity, where they could see and cluck to each other.
When I removed the barrier, they did not want to leave their own quarters, and I had to coach them out. Once in the larger barnyard, they wanted to return to their previous confinement. I thought I was witnessing the onset of a bigger problem. Was I going to need to build permanent separate quarters for them?
I tended to panic, but, regaining my composure, I decided that we all have to learn how to adapt to new situations, and I would do my part to assuage their fears and apprehensions about life in the wider world. Clearly, they trusted me to care for their needs, which was the beginning of forging a new bond of friendship for them and for me.
Their timidity was apparent, as they gingerly inched forward with the older residents staring at them as if to ask, ”Are we going to have to share our vittles with these upstarts?” With each step forward, they retracted by taking two steps backward to be safely with me.
I stayed with them to make sure that the socialization procedure would advance peacefully, which it did. I saw no evidence of the proverbial pecking-order hierarchy being imposed, and gradually, the newcomers did not stand out looking at the others and began mingling.
On their first day together, I served several helpings of food in widely scattered places to afford all of them, new and old, opportunities to eat wherever they wanted. For their part, Gladys and Henry, along with Quack I and II, ignored them, which relieved me greatly. I thought I should never be able to distinguish the new arrivals from the established residents, given they all were of the same breed, but I was wrong in that surmise.
The three newcomers seem to remember my concern for their well-being during those special early days after their arrival, and they express their appreciation by preferring to be petted, even when I already have served their meals. The three of them jump up on the food storage unit and gently cluck to let me know that they are there.
I reach down to pet them, and they virtually coo back at me. They are among the most domesticated chickens I ever have had. The older hens are spoiled by my always feeding and watering them, and they do not think of reciprocating with expressions of affection.
The new three might also be Rhode Island Reds, but they are of a different “breed,” not literally, but metaphorically. They truly enjoy human companionship, and they express it materially by laying an egg each day, in addition to the clucking and cooing.
Since childhood on the farm, my favorite breed of chickens has been the Dominecker, as it was my grandmother’s, but for her it was for the quality of its meat, whereas of late, these three newcomers are causing me to move the Rhode Island Reds up on the scale of favorites.
