Goodbye, sweet ladies

Aah, this is hard. We loved them so much.

Wendy

Their leader from the start, she was benevolent and fair. She never ruled by force: she never had to. The other two just understood that she was in charge.

AKA Flapsy-Toot or Flapsy on account of her enthusiastic flap -- cut short by a mysterious wing injury -- and her keen toot.

Wendy was the only one brave enough to honour us with "a sittin'". Usually later in the day, us sipping on a glass of wine in the back garden, she'd come and jump on your leg. She fell asleep on Lucy a bunch of times.

I don't think I've ever been as content as I have with Wendy on my leg. She was a beautiful animal; truly a unique character. I'll miss her more than I can say.

Marie

Little Marie, bottom of the pecking order but the most adventurous of the lot. A smart bird, she learned to recognise when we were calling her (hey, Coolie! in a whisper), usually because we'd found some sort of bug and wanted to make sure she got it.

AKA Coolie, Coolie-pie, Cool-bean, based on the feathers on her legs, which made it look like she was wearing culottes.

She'd often go to bed early, to get a bit of time to herself. But then when the other two went in, she'd come back out and Lucy would get the fork to do some digging with her. Marie loved finding grubs in the ground with her mamma.

A gorgeous, gentle bird. She would have gone anywhere and done anything for you.

Belinda

Every flock has a bully, and Belinda was it. But we loved her, because they're your chickens, and what do you do?

AKA The Bruiser.

If Belinda had been a human she'd have been the matron of a girls' school. We always wanted to get her a pair of half-moon glasses.

But she was always the first to come and sit next to us of an evening. We'd set up the outdoor chairs in our 'business class' configuration, and she'd be straight out. She'd sit on the ground and pancake out … it looked really relaxing. With us sitting above them, they knew they were safe.

Toot-toot-toot

AKA collectively the tooters.

Goodbye, sweet ladies. We loved you so much. You gave us such happiness. We will miss your little faces and your inquisitive toots. The garden is so empty without you.

Toot-toot-toot. One two three.

What chickens taught me

Looking after these girls taught me that all I need to be truly happy is Lucy, a quiet back yard, and a handful of chickens.

I don't need things. I don't need money above the basics for a simple life. This realisation has been profound.

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There's this idea in meditation practice that this might be the last time you do something. It might be the last time you see your kid. It might be the last time you have dinner with your partner, or visit your best friend. You just never know.

This is a useful reminder to pay attention. Don't sit there in the garden with your chickens and scroll your phone. Be with your chickens. Absorb the moment. Because, eventually, it'll be the last.

We've had our last moment with these girls. We're crushed with grief. But I enjoyed every moment. I'll never forget them.

On chicken care

I write this hoping that it'll be absorbed in to the internet and help future chicken owners.

You're probably thinking, why did he get rid of these chickens he loved so much? It's because they couldn't have moved with us, and we couldn't have given them to anyone else, and this is because of their breed, and its problems.

(Obviously I have learned all of this since getting the girls. My god, the stuff I've learned about chickens...)

ISA Brown

Chickens bred for laying are ISA Browns. So they're a very common back-yard chook, because for the first year or so you get an egg a day. Amazing, right?

The problem is this aggressive laying schedule, a result of selective breeding, wrecks their little bodies. Commercially, they lay for a season and that's it. But when you get one as a pet, it's a problem.

When they reach about 1.5 years old, they start laying lash eggs (image warning).

Untreated, this will kill them. They get an infected reproductive tract and either die from the infection or associated tumours. I can only imagine it's a painful, slow death.

The treatment is hormones: an IUD, the same they give to dogs. And most vets won't give this to a chicken. We're forever indebted to the magnificent, kind staff at the Unusual Pet Vets in Fyshwick, without whom we couldn't have done any of this.

The hormone is effective, and permanently stops them laying. But you can tell that it messes with their moods. They become very subdued; they sleep a lot.

And it costs about $1,000/year/chicken. It's a commitment.

So if you are considering keeping chickens, please don't get ISA Browns. They're beautiful birds, but they're doomed to this life of disease. The eggs aren't worth it. Just buy free-range eggs from the store.

Other breeds of chicken -- in which I have no expertise -- do lay eggs. But you're not going to get one a day.

My consolation

Many back-yard chooks die either in terror, eaten by a fox/dog/snake, or painfully, with an unnoticed disease.

We kept ours safe for over three years. Nothing bad ever happened to them. I'm sure they lived a near-perfect chicken existence. Lucy kept their place immaculately clean. They got treats and love. They were free to roam our whole back yard, every day. What a life.

And when they went, they went together, peacefully.

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