Hen Party

Words by James Collard
Photos by Joshua Kittle

Keeping hens for their eggs has long been part of country life – a genteel pastime, as in Pride and Prejudice, where Charlotte Lucas, while married to dismal Mr Collins, nonetheless found pleasure in “her home and her housekeeping, her parish and her poultry”. And in the right hands, a well-run chicken coop can be positively chic. Witness Debo, Duchess of Devonshire’s chickens, which not only laid eggs, but once figured as rather unusual table decorations. For when the fashion designer Oscar de la Renta came to Chatsworth, a Buff Cochin cockerel “of steady temperament, especially washed for the occasion” adorned the dining room in place of flowers, though the scene-stealers proved to be some freshly hatched chicks, snuggled into hay-filled china baskets. “They were only a day old, which was very handy,” Debo recalled, “as they knew no different and thought it was all perfectly normal.”

Yet hen-keeping isn’t just a rural pursuit. It was The Good Life’s Barbara and Tom who shocked their neighbours, Margo and Jerry, by introducing chickens to leafy, suburban Surbiton back in 1975, and today chickens can be urban creatures – edgy even. Think of Hackney City Farm’s flock of Light Sussex hens, producing a steady 45 eggs a day to be bought and consumed by local hipsters. And arguably in 2020 – this strangest of all years – keeping hens has become part of the zeitgeist. Society bible Tatler just declared hen-keeping as U in a piece about post-Covid U and Non-U mores. According to Country Life’s Kate Green, “People are re-thinking their lives. And if there’s no need to commute, or to catch a train for a half-hour meeting that you can easily do on Zoom, then keeping hens is suddenly a much easier, desirable option.”

“I think a lot of people got hens during lockdown,” agrees writer and literary salon host Damian Barr, who has kept hens for 10 years now, describing them as more than pets, “almost family members... When I go down to see my local chicken lady, she says she can’t get them fast enough. There was massive anxiety and panic buying and you couldn’t get eggs, and it’s a comforting thought to have your own supply.”

But if keeping hens is fashionable, might some hens be more fashionable than others? Not too long ago, Tatler ran a column headlined “What your pet hen says about you”, arguing that “the kind of hen you own reveals more about you than you might initially think.” If you have Lincolnshire Buff hens, Tatler declared, “you’re a stickler for manners. If people don’t write thank-you letters, they’re out.” Buff Orpingtons? You’re ex-Army, no-nonsense and like your “hens to be efficient layers... sturdy and reliable – like a tank.” And people who keep Sussex hens? “You want an easy run of things. No fuss... Drink gin as and when the mood takes you.” The piece was playful, obviously – owners of Dorking hens can’t really all be “into past-life regression and pottery”. But the fact remains that as breeds of hens have particular qualities, characteristics – even characters – so they appeal to different poultry keepers. Some hens make “wonderful mothers”, even foster mothers (if you’re breeding from your hens); some forage well when they’re free-range – others are too lazy, but make nice pets; some lay exquisitely coloured eggs, and bantams can flourish in tiny gardens (foxes permitting), while other hens are (whisper these words when you’re around hens) “dual-purpose”... in other words, just what is it you’re looking for in a hen – eggs, love, meat – or all of the above?

But feathery fashions change. As a keeper of hens (“from the age of five”), regular show judge and editor of Fancy Fowl Magazine, the Poultry Club’s Jed Dwight has seen new breeds such as the Serama become fashionable among early-adopting hen-fanciers in recent years. And then there is the Silkie – a comedic, fluffy-looking thing, which small children adore and which tolerates small children well. But Silkies lay small eggs in very small numbers – and they’re not remotely hardy. Their fluffy, fur-like plumage gives no protection from wet English weather and there are few sights so sad as a Silkie that’s been left out in the rain. They might do as cosseted pets, but can any self-respecting countryman or countrywoman really tolerate such a namby-pamby creature in preference to a hardy native breed?

Royal connections can lend a hen a certain cachet, as Dwight explains. “The Queen Mother kept Orpingtons, which were then taken on by Prince Charles” – who is the Poultry Club’s Patron – while as long ago as the 15th century, we’re told Richard III’s penchant for Rosecombs made them toney among the Lincolnshire gentry. More recently, as elsewhere in the farmyard, there is a growing interest in rare breeds – what we might call recherché chickens – as championed by the Rare Poultry Society, such as the charmingly named Marsh Daisy, the oddly named Rumpless Game and the ever-more highly prized Indian Game, which some advocates insist could be the British answer to France’s Bresse chicken, coveted for its excellent meat. (Just don’t refer to it by its old name, Cornish Game. “It’s a faux pas to call it that now,” explains Green.)

But what writer and hen-lover India Knight calls her “bog standard brown hybrids” also have their fans – hybrids being great layers, although the initially sluggish native breeds often lay for longer. But Knight also has “six very friendly Buff Orpingtons – they look like Victorian ladies. I love their portliness and decorum.” Keeping hens, she explains, is “very addictive”. Asked to describe the appeal, she declares, “I love everything about hens, from the way they look to their delicious eggs. They are so characterful and comical. I often go and sit with them and watch them, sometimes for an hour at a time, or sometimes I take my laptop out and go and write close to them. They’re very soothing, so clucky and contented. They just potter.”

This article is taken from the Goodwood Magazine, Autumn/Winter 2020 issue.