Admittedly a small genre, my hands-down favorite chick flick is The Natural History of the Chicken.

I found this back in 2002, long before I had even touched a real chicken. At the time, I thought it was a ridiculous, but entertaining mockumentary about people and their chickens. Nine years later, I realize they could make a mockumentary about me, for example:

• I once spent $80 on X-rays and a vet visit for “Bettie,” one of my first hens. But, I learned that the farmer selling his “young hen” actually sold an old lady hen, whose bones had been so depleted of calcium from a decade of laying eggs that she would never stand again. Then, I paid another $16 for humane euthanasia, as I sobbed in the waiting room.
• I once kept “Babette” my absolute favorite chicken, in a cage on the dining room table for a month. A hawk had made a grab for her, leaving talon furrows down her back. Every day I applied Neosporin to her wounds until she got better. I am so glad my husband didn’t divorce me.
• I once climbed straight into a poopy chicken coop at night, armed with a flashlight, leather hearth gloves and a bath towel. A large opossum had let herself in and was getting ready to eat my flock (yes opossums love to eat chickens). I didn’t want to hurt the opossum, so I had to corner it, grab it with a towel and toss her outside the coop. I still remember the grunt as she landed in the grass. That was perhaps a bit unkind on my part, but I was annoyed, and covered in chicken crap.