Farewell Feathered Friends

Amy: What is this one’s name?
Boo: Bowdee
Amy: How about this one?
Boo: Donkett
Amy: How about these brown ones?
Boo: That’s Dew, Bella and Bo
Amy: We have a Bo and a Bowdee?
Boo: (pauses) I don’t know what I’m talking about. When they are older they have names. Yeah, when they get bigger they get names.


Several weeks ago I posted about our feathered friends who we’ve raised from chicks since March. They have been an absolute joy to care for (as far as I’m concerned). The kids’ first question after, “Mom, will you make us breakfast?” is “Mom, when can we let the cheekies out?” They are so soothing to watch as they strut around pecking and scratching. It’s almost therapeutic and I am honestly a more relaxed person by sitting and just watching them do their thing for 10 minutes a day.



Two weeks ago, I got a visit from Animal Control, informing us that an anonymous neighbor had called them and that we are not zoned for chickens. The officer was very kind and asked if we had a rooster (as that is usually the complaint). I assured him we didn’t, and he gave us until the end of June to find them a new home. It was a sad day. I was upset and angry and embarrassed. Yes, we should have read the zoning laws more carefully, but we really didn’t think it would be that big of a deal, so long as we were very responsible and respectful of our neighbors. We believe in obeying and sustaining the law, so I began making inquiries as to a new home for our hens. My cousin agreed to take two, and my aunt and uncle have a little farm in Southern UT and agreed to take the rest. (Thank you, Parnells!)


Monday I got another unfortunate visit from Animal Control. Another officer came to follow up and see if I had gotten rid of our chickens. I told her that I have made arrangements, but that I was told I had until the end of June. She went back to her truck and came back 10 minutes later, quizzing me on who the officer was who spoke to me. She called for backup, and now I had TWO animal control trucks and officers at my door. The new officer didn’t recognize me, but his name was on the form as responding to the call. They tried to track down the actual officer, which took another 20 minutes. It was decided that we have until the end of June unless another complaint is filed, in which case we need to get rid of them sooner. Thank you. So long. Have a nice day.

Meanwhile, my kids were clinging to my legs after hearing the blue guys say things like, “chickens”, “get rid of”, “new home”, “we can take them”, and were up in arms. I hate confrontation of any sort. Those of you who know me well know that. I usually just cry and submit when confronted in any way. I tried to explain to them calmly choking back my own tears of embarrassment, sadness and frustration that our chickees were “too big” for our house and we needed to send them to a nice new home with more space for them to play (I know it’s not a whole truth, but it’s the best I could come up with that they would understand). Boo threw possibly the largest meltdown I remember her having. Tears, sobbing, puffy eyes, begging and pleading to keep her friends – it went on for a good 30 minutes. She even reasoned that we could buy a new and bigger house and they could live there. Yaks must take after Josh, as he flexed his muscles and said, “I will NOT let those blue guys take my chickees (veins popping out of his neck).”

Possibly the worst part of the whole thing was that the officers decided to have a lunch break in front of our house for a good 30 minutes chatting (they were here for a full hour). The kids were in hysterics that they were going to come into our yard and take their beloved chickens away, and I’m sure the neighbors thought that Amy finally snapped and was having a stand-off with them about her poultry. I didn’t have a cell phone to call anyone, and did you know I’m pregnant? Yeah, I was an emotional mess the rest of the day. Our neighbor Dell was so concerned he walked over to come check on us and make sure I was okay! I burst into tears talking to him. I don’t think he was expecting that. We had pancakes for dinner.


So, I’m happy they will have a nice, new home where they can scratch and catch bugs all day. We’ll miss them dearly, as they are the closest thing our family has had to a pet of any sort. Isn’t it funny the attachment we get to animals and how much more invested we get in the relationship when we care for something? It’s been a great time, and I hope the laws change someday, so everyone can have the chance to have a Donkett and Bowdee of their very own.