Rare Birds From the Desert

At dawn on Paul Hong’s chicken farm in Newberry Springs, 20 miles east of Barstow in the Mojave desert, the sun peeps over distant hills, bronzing a spare landscape of sagebrush and scrub. A cacophony of clucking and crowing comes from the tin-roofed coops.

Hong, a retired engineer with a passion for poultry, sneaks up with a hooked wire behind a stray golden-red rooster, snares its feet and pulls it to him.

“La Belle Rouge,” he says with a grin. “Sweet-meat chicken.” Slower to mature and less productive than commercial types, with “firmer” (some might say tougher) flesh, these French-bred beauties have what Hong’s customers at the Alhambra and Torrance farmers markets crave: real chicken flavor.

In the next coop are bantam-size white Silkies, aptly described by Marco Polo as having feathers as soft as cat fur. Chinese believe that eating these “black-boned” chickens offers special medicinal benefits. Their eggs are small but exceptionally tasty.

Hong also shows off his odd-looking Turkens (also called Nudes or Transylvania Naked Necks, for their feather-free necks), cooing squabs (“very profitable”), quacking ducks and honking geese.

During the summer, temperatures can reach as high as 125, so Hong turns on sprinklers to cool the chickens through evaporation. Even so, when it’s that hot, he must be careful not to frighten the birds or they’ll drop dead of heart attacks, dozens at a time.

Born to Chinese parents near Saigon in 1942, Hong came to California in 1962 to study, then worked as an engineer for 25 years. At school he met his wife, May, who was born in Shanghai, orphaned and raised by a Jewish uncle who fled the Nazis.

At their home in Glendora, they grow Asian pears and Peruvian white guavas, which they also sell at the markets.

In 1986 Hong bought a derelict chicken ranch on 40 acres in Newberry Springs (where there really are warm springs) and put in tanks to farm tilapia. Only one fish tank remains, but the birds, which he started raising in 1990, number 10,000.

“It’s what I like to do,” says Hong, pointing to his heart. “I love the desert’s serenity.”

A few days later, at the Alhambra farmers market, the manager taps Hong, who lets rip an ear-piercing whistle to announce that the market is open. The mostly Asian crowd surges forward. May Hong makes change, her fingers flying. Some customers scoop up chickens or eggs, while others go straight for the rooster testicles, which are about the size and texture of sea scallops.

“Chinese Viagra,” Hong says with a wink. “It always sells out immediately.”

The Hongs sell at Torrance farmers market, 2200 Crenshaw Blvd., between Carson Street and Sepulveda Boulevard, Saturdays 8 a.m. to noon; and Alhambra, Bay State and Monterey streets, Sundays 8:30 a.m. to 1 p.m. (The Alhambra market will be closed Sunday for Easter.)