Well folks, it’s official. After much observation and plenty of giggles, we held a serious naming ceremony that involved no ceremony at all. Our two rescue chickens finally have names. Y’all, they are perfect.
Introducing Duck and Goose. Yes, you read that right.
Duck is one of our Buff Orpington teenagers—plump, golden, and already walking around like she owns the lanai. Goose, on the other hand, is a little more mysterious. We think she might be a Gold Laced Wyandotte, but truthfully? Your guess is as good as ours. Either way, she’s rocking a beautiful pattern on her feathers and some serious main character energy.
These names didn’t come from a baby name book or a list of backyard chicken puns. No, ma’am. Our four-year-old great niece lovingly bestowed these names upon them. That’s the kind of decision we don’t question around here. She glanced at them. She pondered for a moment. Then she spoke with full toddler confidence:
“That one’s Duck… and that one’s Goose.”
And just like that—boom. Settled.
Now every time we step out to feed the flock, we holler “Hey Duck! Hey Goose!” and get a little chuckle out of how fitting it all is. They’re besties, of course. They stick close, chirp at the same time, and get into trouble like they’ve known each other since the egg.
So if you swing by the homestead and hear us calling out names that sound like we’re preparing for a game of tag, don’t be alarmed. Just know Duck and Goose are thriving, clucking, and absolutely living their best rescued chicken lives.
And yes—Chicken is still Chicken (named by the same tiny human genius), and she approves this message.
Welcome to the flock, Duck and Goose. We’re so glad y’all are home. 🐥🪿
1737 Urban Homestead 