How I Became a Chick Magnet by Embracing My Spirit Animal

This post is no yolk.

Me holding my friend, Susie

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Chickens are my spirit animal. No cougar or dolphin or grizzly for me. I would love a Quetzal as my spirit animal, but it's just not in the cards.

The ordinary chicken, whose numbers are triple that of humans, is the OG. I see it only now as I have arrived into my wisdom years.

Because I was raised as a city girl, I never encountered chickens, except for the roasted ones. Later, after moving to the suburbs, households with vast properties sold fresh eggs in recycled cartons on roadsides, but the egg layers themselves were mysteriously absent.

Cats and dogs ruled my life then.

I didn't realize what I was missing until I met my first chicken eight years ago. A fellow student in a yoga-training class invited us to her home for lunch. As we exited our car, a group of chickens sprinted towards us. I thought they were cluck-clucking a warning to us who'd just infringed on their territory, but then I realized they were ecstatically greeting their owner.

Did you know chickens can recognize over 100 different faces, including humans?

Our yoga friend was effusive about her chickens and their intelligence. After lunch, I held my hand and offered Susie the Chicken corn kernels. My friend insisted that I interact with Susie, and I complied even though I thought her pointy beak would poke right through my palm.

Susie feeling peckish.

The point of her beak was sharp, like a dull needle. As Susie bent over to get her kernels, Susie's pecking technique left me shook. Her forceful bobbing took me right up to the edge of pain. It must have been the yoga training because I managed to maintain my equilibrium, allowing Susie to finish. Her owner nodded approvingly, and I was proud to have understood the assignment.

My friend then scooped Susie up like a puppy and placed her in my arms. Without a moment to consider, my spine stiffened as I held Susie's rotund body.

Was I really doing this?

Her weight felt like the lightest of basketballs. It was mid-afternoon, and Susie had been storing food in her crop all day. For those unfamiliar, a crop is a sac on the very front and bottom of the chicken's chest that gets bigger and bigger as the day goes on, and the chicken fills it with food.

I imagined Susie sensing I was a novice chicken handler. Don't animals have a sixth sense to detect human fear? Would she scratch and claw to get away? No, she settled in content, loving to cuddle, so I went with it while stroking her soft brown feathers. She felt delicate and rugged, just as you'd expect if you held Susie's closest living relative, the T-Rex dinosaur.

There was something so regal yet loving about Susie. She was bossy and got what she wanted. Susie's earlobes matched her brown eggs, and I loved how she accessorized!

Susie’s owner snapped the above photo, immortalizing a woman and a chicken.

I've wanted to become one with my chicken homies ever since. Whenever I mention the possibility of a brood, my husband gives the same look of horror. The fact that chickens are amiable omnivores eating vegetation, grain, and insects doesn't sway him. We have a lot of mosquitos here at the Jersey Shore. Even when I try to fill the hubby’s mind with the smell of fresh eggs in the morning, I get the same reaction.

I understand that not everyone gets the privilege of keeping their spirit animal on their property.

I'll have to settle with my happy memory.

Chickens popped into my life again when I visited Zakynthos last month. Chickens are plentiful in backyards and along the roads on this island. Of course, I have to snap a picture whenever I see them.

Roadside fowl friends in Zakynthos

The retreat ladies and I visited the village of Orthonies last month with our tour guide, Mia, who'd taken many visitors on tours through the villages, and the residents knew her well.

Mia knocked on one of the doors to introduce to a "real" villager. A plump Yia Yia, all in black, graced the doorway, smiling widely, her two remaining teeth proudly displayed.

She hugged Mia and spoke with her in Greek. Little did we know that this was a setup. Yia spryly leaned into her house and produced a small table with white paper that said "10€". From behind the door, crocheted chickens in an assortment of colors appeared. We exchanged smiles with Yia Yia, unsure of the purpose of crocheted chickens when she invited us into her home.

Daylight disappeared as we stepped over the threshold, and our eyes adjusted to the darkness of her living room. Was that a dirt floor? I can’t recall but I do remember how sparsely furnished and primitive it was.

One thing was sure: she was proud of her home.

By then, the first batch of crocheted chickens had been sold and replenished with more. Mia explained that the chickens were egg warmers. The interior of the chicken was large enough to store an ostrich egg, but we purchased them anyway.

Buying things we don’t really need is the American way, right?

I now have a chicken to call my own. When she's not keeping her eggs warm, she likes hanging out with the rest of the flock. Here she is enjoying our company at lunch.

YiaYias’s chicken creation

The tour guide business owner provided some music at lunch, too.

What is your spirit animal? Do you have a relationship with certain kinds of animals? I’d love to hear about it in the comments below.