Jessie over at What Housework is moving. She had put a bid on a house and was greatly stressed out over a snafu in the contract (which has been worked out), so she did what any self respecting transplant to Vermont would do she took a poultry break.
I don't claim to understand the chicken thing, but here is my experience with it. My sister moved out to the middle of nowhere to have room, that includes room for chickens. I take all the blame. When I was living in Vermont, my sister took the train up from Maryland to visit me. Since we had grown up in the city, I thought a visit to the Chittenden County Fair would be in order during her visit. She fell in love with a chicken. I had to convince her that the Amtrak people weren't going to be happy with her. She left the chicken at the fair but it was my first clue of her love for chickens.
A few years later she moved out to 15 acres in the country and finally got her chickens. She is fond of less commercial and rare breeds so she has chickens with feathers on their feet that look like they are wearing bedroom slippers. She has chickens with tufts on their heads that look like something out of a Dr. Seuss book, and she has little chickens and big chickens. She also had two lovely little girls.
My mother, having retired and deciding that she hated traffic, bought some land down the road from my sister to be close to the grandchildren. Along with owning land, apparently comes the desire for chickens. Here are a few of my mother's chickens. She recently hatched out 19 eggs and has a broody chicken who is working on hatching out a few the old fashioned way. But most importantly, is the style the chickens live in. My mother made them a stained glass window for the hen house.