That's what my neighbor wanted to know. We gave her the low-down. Between predation and re-homing poor layers, we now only have ten chickens wandering around the Coop de Ville.
(We would've had twelve, but for some unfathomable reason, ten of the hens decided that the feather-legged and -footed Cochins, two very pretty and mild-mannered hens, were Not Of The Body, and began harassing them. Short-term, it helped us give names to the two Cochins. The one that fought back was Earl; the one that hid in the nest box was Randy. When it looked like Earl's brain was going to start leaking out the top of her bloody head, we evacuated the pair to a friend's ranchette. I have never seen two hens so happy to take a car ride. They're now getting along famously with our friend's chummy Buff Orpington hen Ginger and Marty, the resident cock, who was verrrry glad to make the acquaintance of two new ladies.
In some far-off future where I have the room to try again with Cochin hens, I'd love to have a mix of white Cochins and pale-orange Orpingtons. It'd look like a Creamsicle.)
The outer, egg-laying popsicle shell surrounding...
...a delicious, meat-bird ice-cream center! What's not to love?
So, yeah, ten hens: Pearl, an older (5+yrs) golden-laced Wyandotte, Red Sonja and Amondine the Rhode Island Reds, Cleo the Maran who, like Sonja, is an older hen—4 years or so? Pecky Becky the Barred Rock, Lurch the Jersey Giant, The Garys, our two Leghorns, and the two unnamed Ameraucanas.
I've got an order in for more chicks from Sandhill Preservation Center, but I went for the Mystery Chick Assortment so not only do I not know when they'll arrive, I don't know what they'll be.