You've got to love a chicken story that starts with "I think she gave me her rejects." Because honestly, isn't that how the best relationships begin? This Reddit user stumbled into silkie ownership the way most of us stumble into anything worthwhile, by accident, with lowered expectations, and a touch of self-deprecating humor. Their silkies came from a lady's castoffs, the birds that didn't make the cut for someone else's flock. And now they're asking if these poofy little weirdos might be inbred, because one has a poof that looks "pitiful" and another barely has a poof at all.
Here's the thing about silkies: they're already the misfits of the chicken world. Fluffy feathers that look more like a bad perm than plumage. Blue-black skin. Five toes instead of four. They were never going to win a traditional poultry pageant, and that's exactly why we love them. So when someone hands you their rejects, you're not getting second-best, you're getting the rejects of the rejects. The misfits among misfits. And based on this user's report, those misfits are the sweetest little things who "don't know how to be mean." That's not a flaw. That's a feature.
To the question of inbreeding: sure, it's possible. Backyard breeding sometimes gets a little cozy. But a scruffy poof and a partially feathered head doesn't scream genetic disaster, it screams "these birds were never bred for show quality." That lady probably kept the perfect crests for herself and let go of the ones that looked like they got caught in a blender. That's not cruelty, that's just farming math. The practical takeaway here is what this user already figured out: personality matters more than perfection. You can't cuddle a perfect poof. You can cuddle a sweet, pitiful, half-poofed silkie who follows you around like a puppy.
If a reader came to us with the same story, we'd tell them this: you didn't get rejects. You got the discount bin special, and the discount bin special is often the best value in the store. Those silkies are pure gold because they're gentle, they're friendlier than a lot of purebred show birds ever are, and they've already proven they can thrive in a home that sees them for who they are, not just what their feathers look like. So keep loving those scraggly little fluffballs. And if anyone asks where you got them, just say they're from the reject pile. That's a badge of honor around here.