The chickens all have names and are friendly to their keepers. They aren't quite pets in the sense of being kept in the house and sleeping in humans' beds like dogs and cats, but they seem to be regarded as more than mere livestock.

His son/my cousin became attached to a particular bird. He was five or six.

My parents came to visit them and there was a splendid meal set out. My parents noticed my cousin/their nephew wouldn't touch his plate. When asked why not, he burst into tears and cried, "That's Henrietta!"

Maybe Henrietta wasn't a pet to my uncle, but he was loved and cherished by his son. And IMO, that's one of several reasons my cousin was a nut job until the day he died.

I know the type of hurt that leaves, even decades into the future. My dad was a Depression-era kid. Lost his twin brother in a house fire; was bounced from relative to relative because of money issues with his parents. One of those homes had farm animals and various critters. Had a small flock of geese. One of these basically imprinted on my dad when it was born. From what I was told, that goose followed my dad around everywhere. He absolutely loved that goose as you would your dog or cat. And, especially given his circumstances of several homes over a few years, this was one creature that gave him unconditional love.

One Sunday, his goose became dinner for the family. It was life-changing for my Dad, and set his personality such that nothing, 2-legged, 4-legged, or with feathers ever went without food or help. He also rarely ever grew "close" to the pets we had as kids. The exception was this English Setter we got as a 6 week puppy. He was suppose to be the runt of the litter; turned out he'd have been the pick of the litter. That dog WAS my dad's dog! Every morning, Daddy would get up and cook breakfast for Snoopy. His truck never moved that Snoop wasn't in the back of it. I imagine everything that daddy felt for that goose when he was a kid, he poured onto Snoopy. So much so, that when Snoop died (at a ripe old age), that was pretty much it for my dad, too. It wasn't too long after that we lost him - his heart just gave out. I always will believe that he somehow linked Snoops mortality to his own. That goose of long ago, didn't just help him get through the Depression sorrows; it set him on his soul's life-path, too. Loving my cats the way I do, it breaks my heart thinking what he went through losing that goose, so soon after losing his twin brother and his parents.

You can't house train a chicken but you can cook them in many delicious ways?

My husband’s son has named them Marsala, Piccata, Florentine and Cutlet.

You offered some good ones. Others might be McNugget, Extra Crispy, a la King.

Alfredo could be called Fred for short!

These name suggestions are cracking me up, but I admittedly appreciate dark humor!

Sirius, Willy, Bock Choy, and Nellie



Eleanor


Virgil Kane


Droopy Rooster, Duck, and Bock Choy (again)


I miss letting them out in the morning and drinking my coffee while watching them cruise around. They were my little buddies and I loved them, dearly.
And I miss the fresh eggs.


Sirius was a happy little snuggler. She wasn’t feeling well and stayed in the house for almost a week and loved it:

I especially love the exotic ones with the big bushy feather "hairdos."

had a duck. the duck would start quaking as soon as it heard my school bus comming down the strat. loved that duck