I've heard that some people compare chickens to gateway drugs. Once you get your first chickens, it's only a matter of time until you become full-fledged farmers. Of course there are some people who can control it, but ...well ....
It was about two decades ago, our daughter was seven years old, and we had recently moved to a rented 2 1/2 acre place. A friend of the family offered our daughter a few chicks, which he was able to get for cheep (er--cheap), and so it began. The first one grew to be a reddish color, and was an Auracana, or maybe it was an Americana, or something? Anyway, she laid eggs with greenish shells--after she grew up, obviously. Her name? Uno.
Then he brought her a couple more, but we had a lot to learn about chickens, especially young chicks. You see, they are susceptible to the cold until they get their adult plumage. The slightly younger ones tried to huddle under Uno's wings, but she was still small herself, and not all of them survived. One or two of them did, however, and the barred rock was named Raindrop, since that's what her black and white spots made my daughter think of.
She did her best to care for the young birds, and we bought some kind of feed for them. And they grew.
Then there was the morning when mini-me excitedly brought in an egg! When we cracked it open, it was a double-yolk! Wow! It was not unusual to get two eggs in a day, and we assumed that both hens were laying ... until we started getting a green egg from Uno.
Over time we acquired a few more chicks and chickens. Our next move brought us next-door to people with several chickens. They ended up with a hen they didn't want who had about seven chicks clustered about her. Mini-me was glad to take them on, and most (or all) of those young ones survived. The mother was quite protective of her brood, and for the first few days she was not shy about pecking at anyone who reached toward them. My daughter duly named her Mother Peck. But after some days the hen began to accept more of the handling and stopped pecking so much. Eventually her name was changed to Mother Gold for the golden feathers that looked like a collar, or necklace, around her neck. She was a small hen, with mostly dark feathers and at least some banty in her, but she was feisty and stayed at or near the top of the pecking order, along with Uno and Raindrop. Mother Gold had a great tendency to become broody, and she hatched out quite a few chicks for us, many of them roosters which had to be re-homed.
My memory is a bit foggy about many of the chickens we had over the years, but Raindrop continued to be a special bird. She may have been the tamest of the flock. When I was out working in the garden, I could tap on a rock or the ground, and Raindrop would gladly come running over, ready for me to turn over the rock or otherwise dig up some tasty bugs. Talk about great bug control! My daughter handled her and carried her around often, and she was fine with others of us holding her as well. She lived a good 6 or 7 years, became fat and mostly blind, and eventually fell prey to a bobcat in the neighborhood. Other neighbors lost birds the same way. We were able to protect most of our birds. Sadly, Mother Gold eventually fell prey to the same fate, though it was obvious that she put up quite a fight. She was one tough lady.
Things changed over time, my daughter grew up, we moved out of state, etc. And we reached a point where we no longer had chickens. But a seed seems to have been planted in my daughter's heart. After she graduated from college, got married, etc., they rented the place where we currently live, and one of the first things she did was to buy some chicks. Now we also have ducks ... and goats ... and a garden, of course. And so the story continues.