When the price of eggs skyrocketed by 30% in January 2023, I, like many others, faced a grocery dilemma. But unlike most, I found a unique solution: chickens. Fast forward to 2025, and egg prices continue to fluctuate and rise in London, South Asian and across the world, making my backyard flock an even more valuable investment.

“You loved keeping chickens as a kid,” my mother, always full of ideas, casually reminded me. “Get a few now. You have the space, and we’ll get the eggs.”

At the time, I was vegan and had no interest in consuming eggs or meat. But little did I know, this idea would lead to a much deeper and more meaningful journey.

With the help of friends, we constructed a 4x4m coop -- predator and weatherproof. Despite living in Greater London, where everything seems a stone's throw away, sourcing hens proved to be a challenge. It wasn’t as simple as buying them on Amazon.

The farms were tucked away in remote corners, far from any public transport routes. But persistence paid off. My first two hens, Victoria and Camilla, arrived through an unexpected source — a friend’s divorce. A few days later, I added three more hens and a rooster — each one a different breed, with their own colour, personality, and charm.

A magical bond

At first, I could manage just a few. But then chicken math took over, and things escalated quickly. From driving two and a half hours to pick up Swedish Flower Hens — a breed once on the brink of extinction — to hatching my own chicks, my backyard turned into a chicken haven.

Along the way, I adopted a couple more rescued hens, Sita and Geeta, and even received a special gift: Desi chicken eggs from Karachi, sent with care in an ice cream tub. As the chickens multiplied, so has my love for them.

It wasn’t just about eggs. These birds were quickly becoming a source of unexpected joy. New customers, especially mothers and children, coming to buy eggs, would want to meet my flock. For some, it was a moment of pure joy — autistic children squealing with delight as they spent time with the chickens, their laughter filling the air. Chickens, who usually aren’t fond of being held, would allow themselves to be petted — especially Afreen, who demands attention and gently pecks at my jeans when I am too distracted. The bond between us, and with the visitors, is nothing short of magical.

Chickens are incredibly intuitive. They can sense your mood, your energy. And in return, they’ve taught me to slow down, to be present. In moments of stillness, my hens are calm and responsive, and in their peaceful company, I’ve learned that there’s no need to rush.

I learned to be gentle, to cherish the slow moments, and to trust the process of life. When one of my hens is sick, I hold her close, comb against my temple, whispering strength. It’s surprising how often this simple act of connection can help them heal.

Life with chickens isn’t without its challenges. One summer afternoon, as I was sipping coffee with friends, a fox attacked. In a flurry of wings and feathers, I saw one of my hens caught in its jaws. In a panic, I threw a slipper at the fox, hitting it just right to force it to drop her. Snowy was wounded, but survived.

I quickly took action to reinforce the garden fence with spiked galvanised iron mesh. The foxes have not returned, but that experience served as a sobering reminder of the real dangers lurking outside my garden.

Rediscovering balance

My garden, once a sanctuary of flowers, herbs, vegetables, and frogs, attracted pollinators and my friends sat barefoot to soak its calm. The chickens, with their insatiable curiosity, have eaten every plant in sight. The garden is now transformed. The grass is gone, and the frogs in the pond have long since disappeared. My garden is now their playground, and I’ve come to realise that this is their space.

Even through my nostalgia at the loss of my plants, I’ve embraced the joy and brouhaha they’ve brought into my life. I also realised boundaries are important in any relationship. Recently, I created a ‘poop-free-zone’, a fence that stands between the patio and their adventure playground. Friends now visit to soak its restyled calm.

At a time when the world seems filled with chaos and suffering, my chickens have provided a sense of grounding and tranquillity. I may not be creating art right now, but through the quiet moments spent with my flock, I’m rediscovering balance. In the absence of speech, the agility of my observation has multiplied tenfold. Perhaps creativity is waiting for me, just as it did for the first chick to hatch on the summer solstice. And soon, I’ll be back to creating — not just through paint or pencil, but through the love and care I pour into my feathered family.

Here’s the thing: Despite the financial imbalance, the joy and fulfilment I get from raising these happy, free-range organic hens are worth far more than any monetary return. I’ve found something much more valuable: peace, purpose, and an unexpected community connection.

My chickens have taught me more about life, patience, and love than I ever could have expected. And for that, I am grateful.

(The author is an Indian by birth, Pakistani by migration and British by chance. He is an artist, a massage therapist, and now a chicken daddy, living in London. Website: www.alizaidiarts.com. By special arrangement with Sapan)