And so it was that Buffy & Buffy (both so blonde they each thought they had original names), came to our farm, and gently and sweetly took us around the chicken learning curve.
I remember Rj picking our two treasured chicks from the hundreds (it seemed) at the feed store.
I remember our first egg!
Big Buffy
I remember our first winter!
Little Buffy.
In time, we added more chickens of different breeds - but those Buff Orpingtons hold a soft spot in our heart.
When Big Buffy turned up dead one day, at the grand old age of 4 years, Rj buried her near the chicken yard. By then, we had a large flock of chickens of various breeds, all off doing other chickeny things - except for Little Buffy.
"It was eery", Rj says. "The whole time I was digging a hole and burying her, Little Buffy kept me company, interested in what I was doing, and wouldn't leave. As if she knew something had happened to her long time companion and she wanted to be there."
As of this post, Little Buffy is now 6 years old. She's a full on convalescence case, but we keep her, none the less. She has seen more generations come and go than most chickens ever will....and even in her old age, now and again, she still lays an egg.
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