Chickens and Tiara’s

From time to time, we have guest bloggers at The Bee Queen. I am blessed to have a circle of very talented friends of varied interests and passions. Many of my friends keep chickens and love all things poultry. Now don’t get me wrong I am fond of my chickens. But I bet you’ve never met a chicken lover like this lady-an admitted diva gone country and aspiring blogger. 

Please welcome our guest blogger this week,  Cindy Ford Neumann, a lady who loves Chickens and Bling


    “Were you born sick?”

The astrologer intently studied my natal chart. We were having a Ladies Night Out and the astrologer was a part of the entertainment. 
    “Were you born sick?”she persisted.

And in fact, I was born, “sick”-very sick!

My mother had contracted salmonella or thyphoid fever while she was pregnant with me. Probably on a trip to Arkansas to visit my dad’s family. Chicken droppings and or contaminated well water being the likely culprit. Unbeknownst to my mother, the disease was passed on to me in utero. Both my family and our home were quarrantined after my mother gave birth to me. 

Chicken poop. I was almost felled by chicken poop even before I had a chance to live.  Not a very auspicious beginning for a future chicken loving diva.

To add insult to injury, my second experience with a chicken came when I was about four years old. My dog Mac and I were exploring our neighbors property in New Braunfels, Tx. We were set upon by a protective, nesting hen. She chased the two of us all the way back home. Mac, an Irish Setter/Collie mix and not the bravest of dogs beat me to the back door.

You would think after those two experiences, I would steer clear of chickens. In the years to follow, chickens never really entered my mind, not in a live, egg-gathering sense, anyway.

Fast forward to four years ago. I had bought a townhouse and scoured antique shops and flea markets for diamonds in the rough to decorate my home. Mani’s and pedi’s were de rigeur and a closetful of beautiful clothes and shoes were my prized possessions. Did I mention, “I love Bling!”

My horse was boarded at a nearby stable where the stall fairies did all the dirty work. After all, I didn’t want to break a nail.

Any thoughts of angry chickens became nothing more than distant memory.

But life has a funny way of changing, especially when you least expect it. I got married and my husband and I, “bought the farm,” in Pleasant Hill, Mo. Instead of regular visits to my stylist, my hair is often filled with sawdust and hay. My once beautifully manicured nails are replaced with ground in dirt and my hands are rough with calluses. But, I wouldn’t trade my life for a closetful of Jimmy Choo’s and Gucci bags.  And I can say that proudly without crossing my fingers behind my back.

There is nothing more satisfying than waking up each morning and seeing your horse contentedly grazing outside your window. Except when one horse became horses(plural) plus a baby horse and a miniature donkey and oh well, you get the picture.

And then I fell in love with chickens. I don’t know why or how it happened. I don’t even know when it happened. It just did.

My blog is about my chicken obsession, one many of you share.


The challenge? How does a self-proclaimed diva retain her diva-ness, in the midst of cleaning stalls, unloading feed and hay and tromping through a storm to chase a recalcitrant chicken into the coop.

How does a diva reconcile that the most important room in the house has suddenly become the mud room? Which we don’t have.  Yet.

So follow me on my chicken journey. Along the way, you will meet Cinnie, the trick chicken and Carmen, the house chicken. 

We will take a tour of the chicken coop art gallery. And yes, you read that correctly-my chickens have very discerning tastes.

I’ll share my experiences and offer tips of what has worked well in chicken care and housing.  It will be fun!

Just don’t forget your Bling!











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Patricia Gordon says

Yay! I love chickens! Can’t wait to hear more and compare stories.

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