Chickens are a big part of Mr. Nakamura's farm. He told me one time, that when he was young both eggs and good fresh vegetables were scarce, since he lived on a rocky harsh island. The staples of his diet were tofu, noodles, and fish (and of course rice, I imagine.) So he used to fantasize about having all the eggs and vegetables he wanted.

Also, you can see he's really fond of his chickens. Especially mother hens with chicks. He puts them in pens around the house, and every night you can hear him talking to them "don't run away! don't run away! come here, I won't harm you. Ow! why did you do that now?"

The chickens here have about the best life that a chicken could have. Every morning Kenji strews an amount of corn meal on the ground, but the chickens also get table scraps, bad blueberries I throw to them, insects, and vegetables. Whenever I do weeding, chickens come to investigate, looking for bugs. In early August Kenji pulled the netting away from a patch of cabbages that were pretty much done, and the chickens came and pecked at them. Very few of the chickens are eaten, but one day Kenji did ask me to get one knife especially sharp, for three specially chosen chickens.

A few of the chickens stand out because of their particular personalities. I almost feel like I can see bits and pieces of the whole human experience within the world of the chickens here.

Most notable is "the oyako" -- mother and child -- a pitch black mother hen and her speckled grey chick. One morning in the first week that I was here, I awoke and went outside to find a bunch of feathers strewn on the ground right outside of my window. A tanuki had caught a few chicks, and almost caught the mother too -- she was missing most of her tailfeathers. Mr. Nakamura seemed a bit non-plussed that I didn't wake up to hear this, but I guess he also forgot to put the mother and chicks in their pen.
After this, the mother went through a kind of post-traumatic stress. She and her sole remaining chick tried every night to stay inside the house. She seemed especially interested in staying in my room, in my little bookshelf on the floor. At first I thought "ok, sure." So I pulled out the books that were there, lined the shelf with newspaper, and let her stay. But the very next morning when I woke up, there on top of my Japanese dictionary, which was open next to my futon about six feet from the shelf, was a big wet glob of chicken poop. So I hardened my heart and decided that no chickens would sleep in my room. It was difficult -- especially when they settled down together, and the little chick tucked her (him?)self in between the mother's breast and wing. If I made a noise the chick would peek out, a little speckled grey head surrounded by her mothers pitch-black feathers. But as adorable as they are, the sad fact is, unless you're willing to live in harmony with chicken poop (and a lot of it) chickens make bad house pets.
Eventually she gave up on my room, and tried to stay in one of the class rooms. But Sumiko didn't want poop in that room either. So most nights mother and child get carried together to the main chicken house. Sometimes they find a spot that's out of the way enough to not be noticed.


Sumiko is less tolerant of the chickens, but she likes them too. Another hen likes to sit in the small classroom, on top of a cushioned chair.




Another chicken who's made a name for herself is "musume-san" -- (for daughter.) I think maybe a few days before I arrived, this old chick got in a fight and lost -- she had a big chunk of her scalp missing, one side of her face was swollen. Kenji was nursing her back to health. Something about this chicken is so endearing, because she's so homely! Aside from the head, her whole body looks kind of like a dirty wadded up dish rag. I think this chicken does think of Kenji as her father (or probably mother) -- when she's hungry, she makes a similar "peep" that the chicks do, calling for him. Kenji feeds her by hand whatever he's eating, so she's gotten used to being fed by people. In fact she can be downright assertive. One time when Kenji and Sumiko and I were taking a break together, eating a bit of ice cream, Musume-san came up. Kenji gave her bits of ice cream now and then. She came to be asking for some, but I was feeling stingy, so I didn't offer any. So she tried to jump up on my lap and grab it.

Lately Musume-san has been less people-oriented. Today I was sitting at the genkan and eating a bit of bread when she came to investigate. I tore off a bit of bread and made a throwing gesture (saying "here, I'll give you some,") but she sort of shied away! When I threw the bread to her, she actually ran off with it outside, as the other chickens might do. Maybe she's become more socialized into the world of chickens.



Musume-san




Kenji giving his daughter a bit of a massage.




I've also been observing the world of chicken sex. (Sorry, no pictures to offer.) It's interesting that hens don't seem to care much for it. Usually they try to run away. After the rooster is done (it takes about seven seconds) the hens always do the same thing -- they get up, give themselves a shake and ruffle up their feathers, compose themselves, and then go back to what they were doing before -- scratching and pecking at the ground. I also saw something pretty funny. One rooster was on top of a hen, when a second rooster came up, pushed his head between them, pried the first rooster off, and had his turn.

Maybe, chickens are capable of grief. In early August, after just about four or five days of heat, it again became cool and rainy. In fact it rained steadily for several days, and the grounds became wet, sloppy and muddy. I guess this is hard on new chicks, so one of them found a little corner of the genkan and died. The mother stayed near the chick making quiet clucking sounds, not leaving. Later Kenji took the chick and buried it, but the mother stayed in the same spot for several more hours.

And also they're capable of bullying, or maybe emnity. Kenji put a few different hens in a pen near my room, and one of them simply did not like another of them. So every minute or two, the agressor would go over to the agressee, and rough her up a bit. There were several other chickens there too, who didn't seem to have a problem either way. The only conflict was between those two, with the attacks unprovoked. I tried beating on the cage with a broom whenever the agressor attacked, and it seemed to work a bit. I guess it was not usual for those particular chickens to be put together in that particular cage, so I never saw again how they interacted.

When chickens are hot, they pant, just like dogs. They open their beaks and breathe through it. Also, to cool down they dig little holes in the dirt and lay in them. Heat seems to be hard on chickens -- I was watching a young hen running fast to catch a lizard, when suddenly she stopped the chase, and ran across the road to stand under a bunch of bushes. I think maybe she over-heated, and had to cool down. A minute later she came back over, but the lizard was gone.

A final note about chickens: I don't think there could be a creature more annoying than roosters. I think I even prefer mosquitos, because I am allowed to kill them. Every night roosters get going at 2 or 2:30, caling back and forth:

"Hey you over there, on the other side of the farm!"
"Yeah, whaddyawant?!"
"I'm tougher than you!"
"No way man, I'm tougher than you!"
"Prove it!"
"If I weren't in this cage, I'd go over there and kick your ass!"
"Yeah well, if I weren't in this cage, I'd go over there and kick YOUR ass!"
"You'd be sorry tomorrow you know!"
"No dude, you'll be sorry."

(blissful 15 second intermission)

"Hey you over there..."
(repeat about 10 times, or until either I or one of the roosters finally falls asleep again.)

(Actually my friend Lisa said what they're saying is more like "Hey ladies, I'm the sexiest rooster on the farm!" "No, ladies, ignore him. I am the sexiest rooster!" etc. But at 2am all the ladies are asleep. And also they seem to run away regardless, so it doesn't look like a successful advertising campaign.)