Pets

Boomer and his chicken. Giving Hallmark movies a run for their money.

Meet Boomer. He’s a young wether—chunky, cheerful, and just smart enough to open the feed bin if I forget to latch it. And this… is his chicken. Not a chicken. His chicken.

She follows him around like she signed a lifetime contract. Wherever Boomer goes, she’s one step behind him, clucking away like a feathered bodyguard. If he lies down, she fluffs out and perches beside him. If he gets up, she does too. If he chews hay, she pecks politely like they’re sharing a romantic farm-fresh picnic.

And Boomer? Oh, he’s into it. He’s not just tolerating her—he’s proud of her. The other goats tried to get too close one day, and Boomer straight-up hip-checked them like a protective dad at a middle school dance.

They’re inseparable. I didn’t plan it. I didn’t train them. I didn’t even encourage it. But here we are:
A goat in a committed relationship with a chicken.

Some people have emotional support animals. Boomer has a poultry pal with attitude.

I don’t pretend to understand it. I just feed them both and stay out of the way.

Because on a farm, “normal” packed its bags and left a long time ago.