CHICKEN McMANSIONS

Originally published in the Weston Magazine Group.

There’s nothing like fresh eggs. I know because our cook used three of them in my Brie omelette this morning.

When I first got into chicken farming, I didn’t know a pullet from a pullover. I was just a rich guy living the high life in a Connecticut mansion.

Then one day my wife Camilla suggested we build a chicken coop in our backyard. She somehow talked me into it, and though I was dubious at first, now I couldn’t be happier about it.

The Town Planning Commission gave us a permit to turn our huge gazebo into a chicken coop, and we were on our way. We hired a contractor, who took us to the cleaner’s, but we’re used to that. We told him to spare no expense.

The local chicken ordinance requires a coop to be at least 10 feet from the house, and at least 20 feet from the hot tub, for some reason. So, visiting our feathered friends provides us with a lot of exercise.

I’ll never forget the day our first hen laid our first egg. I almost laid one myself! And each new egg is a new thrill.

While eggs from a supermarket are boringly uniform in color, our eggs are delightfully random. The shells range anywhere from Cerulean blue socks in the Old Navy catalogue to a Shiraz red rugby shirt in the Lands’ End catalogue or a Loden green ascot in the Joseph A. Bank catalogue. And the yolks! Just close your eyes and picture a Gamboge orange cashmere sweater from Banana Republic.

Having our own chickens has taught our kids that food doesn’t have to come in a package from the grocery store. It can be brought in through the back door by the butler.

Since entering the wonderful world of backyard chicken farming, I’ve learned a few things myself.

For instance, I was afraid the chickens would be noisy, but they’re actually pretty quiet. They seem to spend a lot of time in the reading room.

When it comes to protecting chickens against predators, a good rule of thumb is: if a 5-year old can open a chicken coop, so can a raccoon. (In our case, our 18-year old son can’t open the chicken coop, but that’s another story.)

As far as the predators themselves go, we don’t kill them, we relocate them. Well, more precisely, our chauffeur Charles relocates them. He likes to tell the story of the time he had a possum in the back seat of the Bentley who managed to open the liquor bar. He made himself a pitcher of daiquiris and when he was let out into the woods, Charles says he was singing The Wiffenpoof Song. The story is funnier when Charles tells it, partly because of his British accent, and partly because I suspect he may be clinically insane.

As we learned on one occasion, chickens will kill other chickens. Usually, this happens when new chickens are introduced into an established flock. (This nearly happened to me when I joined the Freemasons.) As the gardener quipped when one chicken killed another, the chicken’s attorney would probably use the “affluenza” defense!

Chickens have different personalities. And when they’re born with silver spoons in their mouths, their personalities run the gamut from snooty to stuck up.

Just like children, chickens will get sick on occasion. But unlike children, chickens don’t have nannies to nurse them back to health. But they do have avian veterinarians. Surprisingly, we can’t include our chickens on our health insurance plan, but fortunately, at our income level we can afford house calls from the local avian vet.

In our neighborhood, backyard chicken farmers love to compete, and frankly, we have the money to do it. Have you ever seen gold chicken wire? I have. My next door neighbor’s guest house used to house his in-laws; now it houses his chickens. His in-laws were relocated to the woods by his chauffeur. Another neighbor turned his stable’s tack room into a chicken coop, until his horses complained that they had nowhere to hang their saddles and top hats. He finally turned his mansion’s west wing into a chicken wing.

If you’re thinking about building a backyard chicken coop of your own, make it larger than you think your chickens will need. I don’t know if chickens have elbows, but I do know they like having a lot of elbow room. And don’t forget guest rooms. And an entertainment area. But don’t bother putting in a bidet. As I discovered, they won’t use it. But the Jacuzzi has proven to be popular.

When I got into this, I didn’t know if I would take a bath, financially. My accountant informs me that my eggs are costing me around five dollars apiece. This seems a bit high. But I say you can’t put a price tag on getting back to nature.