This is Hoverchicken. I call her this because her legs are so fluffy she 'hovers' instead of walks and just kind floats in a ball of feathers. A small part of me wanted to call her "Nigella" because she's all tits and arse. Mostly arse. Which isn't a bad thing - it's simply a state of being.
I have no idea what breed she is and was informed upon my purchase but in my excitement of having a ball of chicken, I forgot. I bought this one for Mother (capital M) who is actually Mother In Law, but Mother to me. I have a habit of finding birds for her. She lives on a massive farm and I constantly live vicariously through her by buying her bizarre pets with feathers. Dad still hasn't forgiven me for the five ducks. Neither has my husband, who had to clean the car after I decided ducks 'could handle a five minute drive' in the backseat without taking too big of a poo. I was not right.
Nigella Hoverchicken is broody. I only got her yesterday. She laid me an egg, told me all about it, told the rest of the chickens about it and then proceeded to sit on two plastic eggs the next twenty-four hours in an attempt to hatch them. So I'm getting myself some Araucana eggs, which are both an amazingly beautiful chicken and a good layer of baby blue eggs. Being a Jewish household, I don't get Easter, so I have to make up for it somehow. Egg hunts are only fun if the eggs are visible, otherwise you find a rotten egg a few months too late and have yourself a good ol' problem.
So Nigella Hoverchicken will be laying me some new chickens that resemble... this:
Very pretty little chickens with very fluffy heads. I'm excited. Also to replace Nigella Hoverchicken once she goes up to the farm (sounds like death but is an awesome place) is this little guy who will grow up to very much less pretty than the Araucanas:
Her/His name is Gordon Ramsay. I've named my chickens after famous chefs... because I'm smooth like that.
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