Newly married, yet closer to the age of senior citizens than young graduates, my husband Tom, his son Will, and I moved to the country to start a new life. My hubby's interest in raising chickens caused me to state, "They need to have nice living quarters and will be raised for their eggs, not their meat." To this he replied, "There will be no naming them or taking them to a vet." In agreement, except for the naming thing, we began our venture in April, 2005.

Our first flock included Araucana and Leghorn chicks. I immediately took interest in their developing skills and personalities. They grew quickly and it soon became time to move them to newer quarters with roosts, dust baths, and nest boxes. The excitement of placing the gang in a newly built henhouse, a smaller version of our pole building barn, was dampened by our first complication—aggression, among the Araucanas. The Leghorns seemed quite disgusted with their quarrelsome coop-mates, separating themselves during daily routines and evening gatherings.

Three targeted Araucana pullets were separated and placed in the barn. Their wounds were cleaned and treated with something we had on hand, Neosporin. In a short amount of time, the young gals healed and, hopefully, were ready to return to the flock. I was as anxious about their integration as they were and couldn't wait until the following morning to see how they fared. I was surprised at what I saw. When approached by other hens, the three gals stood their ground. I was most impressed by little Sophie, the smallest hen, who stood firm and fluffed her feathers as if to say, "Not again." The gals were on their way to acceptance in the flock.

The first henhouse, a smaller version of the pole barn.

Early in life, Sophie would chatter with a companion. Two of the strongest talkers of the henhouse, they roamed through the barnyard, appearing to discuss matters only a chicken could fully understand. One recollection is the time Sophie's chattering caused me to enter the chicken run only to discover the water container leaked and the gals had nothing to drink. I smiled as I thought of stories of Lassie, realizing that this special dog is not the only critter to let humans know when a problem needs handling. Sophie often led other hens to enjoy special treats scattered in the pasture only to return to the henhouse, alone, to enjoy food, water, and scratch, without competition. Preferring not to participate in the common nest box ritual, she was the first hen to enter the barn and secretly—or so she thought—prepare a nest of her own in a bushel basket containing straw.

Once the gals settled in, we wanted more. After purchasing a child's playhouse and making a few changes, a second henhouse called "Sophie's Place" became a coop where young chicks are now placed before they are introduced to the established flock. During the summer, gourd plants cover the chicken run connecting Sophie's place with the run of the original henhouse. A small door, where the two runs meet, allows chickens to roam freely between houses or keeps them separated while they become accustomed to each other and their surroundings. Both henhouses are insulated and remain at a comfortable temperature through cold winters and hot summers. Even though wooden nest boxes were made to specifications and look nice in Sophie's Place, we discovered quickly that we must have done something wrong because the hens preferred the metal nest boxes in the first henhouse. Often, several hens choose to crowd in one nest box instead of a vacant box with more privacy and comfort.

The second henhouse, adapted from a playhouse.

Today, Sophie still roams the yard chattering among the flock and to any featherless, two-legged critters who may stop by to say hello. She still finds alone time to enjoy treats (strawberries and worms are among her favorites) and to lay her small green eggs. As our special hen, she has her own advice page on our hobby farm's website where humor and information on chicken and egg care are shared.

We are constantly told by customers how much they enjoy the taste of our farmstead eggs and, of course, the pale pink and green colors; however, what I enjoy most is watching the hens and a "surprise" rooster, Snow, who now leads the flock. As I watch Sophie, out on her daily run, I am reminded how resilient all of us can be for I've seen a determined young chick bounce back from a rough start, enjoy life, and become something special. And, as more folks become involved in raising backyard poultry, I realize there will be more fresh eggs enjoyed in communities and more farm critters from the G. gallus domesticus family, like Sophie, to bring smiles.