My Hens

The Professor, Kate, Sarah, and I went to the Chicken Palace between Danielsville and Royston on Friday. It was awesome. As a coworker’s friend put it, Better than the movies.

It was a huge warehouse with the front devoted to the auction and the back devoted to lining up lots to sell and checking out the merchandise up close. The walls were covered salon-style with this kind of art. My favorite was the American flag with a Native American in the middle, not pictured here. The Professor took this picture (actually it’s a crop of a bigger picture) with his camera, as well as the good ones here, and I’m grateful. I’m still figuring mine out.

Although in the newspaper article the auctioneer guaranteed that 90 percent of the gamecocks sold were not used in cockfighting, they were displayed initially by having two birds, held by men, put in close proximity, and the cocks would go after each other before being pulled back. They weren’t hurt on the auction block, but it seems pretty clear what they were being sold for. They sure are pretty birds.


There were many different animals that were sold, including colorful pheasants, cockatiels, guinea hens, frizzleds, a peacock, a whole variety of banties, even bunnies.




We went behind the auction stand and I talked to a lot of people trying to learn if Aracaunas were available or if I could buy them another time. Evidently some were sold the previous week, and some might be brought the next week, but I wasn’t really interested in making the drive again. I learned that many people there drive there every week, some from as far as South Carolina. This gentleman was one of those, and he kindly filled me in about some of the birds available.

I asked him about the Barred Plymouth Rocks for sale. First I asked what they were. I thought maybe Domineckers, but he said those have different combs. He was very helpful. I was sold.

So Kate and Sarah and the Professor all patiently waited until Lot I came up, passing the time eating grilled cheese sandwiches and toast. I recommend the sweet tea. And then, finally, the Barred Rocks I wanted came up–hens not quite old enough to lay, but close.

I started the bidding and ended it, at $10 per bird, and I chose two. (Yes, that’s my knitting bag. I didn’t knit though because it was smoky and I didn’t want my Debbie Bliss Cashmerino to soak it in.) (And yes, I’m holding them with their heads tucked under my arms, to calm them and immobilize them. Thank you, 4-H Club!)

I brought them home in a cat carrier and then they went into their new home, 140 1/2 Hart Avenue.

Here they are roaming the yard the next morning. They haven’t yet been named, so feel free to contibute ideas. So far, from what I’ve seen of their personalities, “Pecky” and “Likespearsalot” are fitting, but I think I’ll hold out for something better.