A trio of hens will live happily in a garden the size of a decent patio, provided you give them a dry bed, somewhere to scratch and a reason to feel safe. They convert kitchen scraps and garden weeds into eggs, scratch weed seeds out of the borders and produce some of the finest compost you will ever spread on a rose bush. What they will not do is thrive on scraps alone, or cope with a damp, draughty shed at the end of the lawn.
Small gardens bring their own advantages. The boundaries are close, so you can keep an eye out for trouble without trudging across a field. They bring risks too: fences give a fox cover, and a small run turns to mud quickly if it is not sited and drained with care. Think both through before you buy a single bird and the whole business becomes a pleasure rather than a chore.
Two or three birds suit most households, and three is a sensible minimum because hens are flock animals. A lone hen is a miserable hen. As for breed, the honest answer is that it depends on what you want from them:
Always buy birds in pairs or trios so nobody is left alone, and resist the cockerel. Even a well-behaved one crows at four in the morning, and many tenancy agreements and local authorities take a dim view of them in built-up areas.
The coop is the one place you should not economise. Foxes dig, climb and hunt by day as well as by night in towns, and a flimsy hen house is little more than a larder with a lid.
Allow at least one to two square metres per hen in the run, and more if they will be confined for most of the day. Three hens, then, want a run of around three to five square metres as a minimum, and the more the better.
Cover part of it. A sheet of corrugated plastic over one end will halve the mud and give the birds somewhere to shelter from driving rain. Lay a deep base of woodchip or bark over sand and rake it weekly; it composts down beautifully and can go straight onto the beds. Add a shallow tray of dry soil, sand and a little wood ash as a dust bath, which the hens will use to smother mites and lice. If you can, use a movable run and shift it onto fresh ground every few weeks so the grass recovers.
Hens are creatures of habit, and so should you be. Fresh water every single day is non-negotiable: expect roughly a litre per bird per day in warm weather, and scrub the drinker every few days, because slimy water spreads disease fast. Feed a balanced layers pellet at around 120 to 150g per hen per day, split between morning and late afternoon, and keep mixed grit and oyster shell available at all times for strong shells.
Hang greens up rather than scattering them on the floor, and keep feeders sealed and lifted off the ground, bringing them in at night to discourage rats. Last thing, count heads and shut the pop hole. A weekly check of the perch ends for red mite, a glance at eyes and vents, and a feel of the crop will catch most problems while they are small.
Site the coop away from the boundary if you can, and keep the flock small. Hens are quiet, but the triumphant "egg song" carries, and a well-timed gift of half a dozen eggs smooths over most complaints before they are made. In winter, expect a moult and a slowdown in laying; let them rest rather than hanging lights in the coop. During avian influenza outbreaks, the authorities may require birds to be housed, so keep a covered run in mind from the outset, and check current government guidance on registering your flock, as the rules have changed in recent years.
Finally, be realistic about the long term. A hen may live six to eight years but lays well for only two or three. Decide before you buy what will happen when the eggs slow to a trickle, and choose birds you are content to keep as garden companions. Done properly, a small flock gives you breakfast, compost and no end of quiet pleasure.