MONTVILLE, Maine — John Twomey can’t remember a time in his life without chickens.
“I’ve had them my whole life,” the retired University of Massachusetts at Dartmouth professor said recently, sitting at his kitchen table. “As a kid I was out in nature all the time. The animals and birds were real buddies of mine.”
In 1978 Twomey brought that love of the outdoors to Maine when he purchased the “old Howard place,” located about a mile down a narrow dirt road in Montville.
In 2009, he and his life partner Leigh Norcott, 43, made the move to Maine permanently to live and manage the 125 acres for a wildlife habitat and a sustainable food supply.
“We grow or catch 98 percent of what we eat,” Twomey, 70, said.
An important part of that food stream is the flock of Golden Campine chickens, a critically endangered heritage egg-laying breed. They wander Twomey’s property searching for bugs, fresh greens and other tasty — at least to a chicken — morsels.
They are a striking bird, with dramatic black-and-gold feathers. Hens and roosters share the same coloration.
The roosters, which really strut about more than wander, are fiercely protective of their hens and will crow at the slightest hint of any threat — real or perceived.
“Fifteen years ago a fellow down in Massachusetts introduced me to the Golden Campines,” Twomey said. “I was struck by them and have found them to be an economical, efficient and sturdy bird.”
Native to the Kempen region of Belgium, the Campines have been around for nearly 1,000 years and are descended from Turkish fowls. It is believed that Julius Caesar was as impressed by the hardy little birds as Twomey was and took some back to Rome after he invaded Belgium.
According to the website The Livestock Conservancy, Campines were first imported to America in 1893 by a Maine poultry breeder.
Twomey said the birds, which can and do fly, evolved to be good meat and egg producers — albeit not outstanding at either, as they lay fewer eggs than other breeds and do not attain large size for big meat production.
They also are expert foragers and do a good job of keeping themselves well fed on his farm when there is no snow on the ground.
“They are a flighty bird,” he said. “They react to loud noises and sudden movements, so you have to be calm around them, but they tend to be a very well-mannered bird.”
One hen can lay 180 eggs per year, which is about half of what the newer, hybridized chicken breeds produce.
Roosters, which do end up in Twomey and Norcott’s stew pot from time to time, grow to be between 6 and 8 pounds and, they said, make an excellent base for a meat and vegetable soup.
The hens tip the scales at 4 pounds.
“They are about three-quarters the size of most other chickens,” Twomey said. “But they lay a nice sized, white egg. We are never without eggs.”
The eggs, he said, are prized by Belgian chefs, who have been known to refuse to use any other kind in baking competitions. Campines will lay those eggs almost year-long, even during the winter with no heat lamp in their insulated coop.
The birds also are somewhat precocious, according to Norcott.
“They start laying eggs young, at about 6 months,” she said. “The roosters start crowing when they are 5 weeks old, but it sounds more like a squeak at first.”
Looking very much the same at birth, it takes a few weeks to tell the boys from the girls based on size, presence of a head comb on the males and listening to which ones start crowing.
“You can start to tell by the time they are 5 weeks old, but you start theorizing at 3 weeks,” Twomey said. “Quite honestly, we have yet to develop a totally reliable guide for determining the sex of these chickens. Often times each of us makes a count, and then we go back and forth defending our decisions to one another. [It’s] great fun.”
Twomey and Norcott breed the birds and have new hatchlings every other year. Last week they welcomed 25 Golden Campine chicks into the world and set up a poultry nursery using an old wooden crate in their sunny living room.
“I bring them treats every morning and spend time to bond with them,” Norcott said. “I bring them clover, grass clippings and dirt with worms in it, so they will know what to eat when they start going outside. They associate getting treats with us and good things happening.”
While not a super friendly bird — they tend to walk around with a distinctive “you’re not the boss of me” attitude — spending time with the chicks does forge a relationship with them, Twomey said.
“Sometimes when we are sitting outside the hens will come and perch on the arms of the chairs with us,” he said. “And Leigh and I can recognize their individual ‘voices’ and squawks.”
When they are bit older, the chicks will move into the barn with the older birds and be turned loose every afternoon to forage around the farm, which Twomey said is a blessing and a curse.
“We have our garden away from the house, hoping the chickens won’t get into it,” he said with a laugh. “But the damn things have gone up there twice.”
The 1,900-square-foot garden produces almost all of the vegetables the couple eats, so it is in their best interest to keep the free-ranging birds from ranging that far.
“When we do see them head up there, we run out swinging towels over our heads to scare them away,” Norcott said. “We make it an unhappy experience for them.”
The entire farm is off the grid and powered by a bank of 24 solar panels. Heat comes from a wood stove, with a propane furnace as backup. Two ponds supply an abundant supply of trout, and the couple spends time in the summer fishing for alewives and mackerel in the nearby Sebasticook River.
They’ve planted and grafted hundreds of oak and heirloom apple trees for themselves and to provide food for wildlife. Even in early June the cupboards in their tidy basement are still full of homemade preserves, pickles, salsa, sauerkraut, tomatoes, dried apples and potatoes.
A freezer is stuffed full of last season’s fish and chicken.
“We only leave the farm every eight days or so,” Twomey said. “Sometimes we look at each other and ask, ‘When was the last time we were in town?’”
Twomey — who has written the book “Retiring To, Not From,” describing their homesteading life — hopes to inspire others to pursue a similar lifestyle.
“I want to encourage people to conserve and protect our farmland and wildlife,” he said. “I am doing this for the next generations. I wrote the book so my grandkids can know a little bit more about this ‘twisted’ old man and what he does.”
The two spend about two to three hours per day working in the gardens or on the property and take the rest of time to walk and observe what is going on in their natural setting. Chickens, vegetables or land management, Twomey said there is really no secret to the farm’s success.
“You just need to know what to do, how to do it and when to do it,” he said. “Then just do it.”
