(or how i learned to love a chicken)
It has been almost 5 years since my last post. It went something like this, "We are building a coop, I am getting chickens this week and will soon start looking for dairy goats."
Aw. The sweet musings of an innocent. Before life as I knew it changed.
I had wanted chickens for a while. Friends of my kids, visiting from the Ozarks, would sit on the deck and say to me, "You should get chickens Debbie. Fresh eggs. And they will eat the ticks and fleas in your yard."
Fresh eggs? Nice. But you had me on "ticks and fleas." Then the kids went on about birds roosting in trees, and how loud a guinea hen is, and hunting for eggs hidden in the yard that you never found. Until they were rotten. And it all seemed so far away and difficult and like something other people do. And not city folk like me.
Until I met some chickens for myself. Up close and personal. At a friend's house in the city. Chickens roosting in the basement and ranging in the yard. We visited and watched the flock come in to roost for the night. The rooster did a little song and dance for a special hen along an overhead beam. And it was love. Chicken love at first sight.
So we built a little A-frame coop from scrap wood and parked it in the corner of my yard and brought home 10 lively pullets. A mix of Araucana, Jersey Giant and other mysteries. My daughter, myself and the grandkids did a whole lot of chicken watching. Especially me. Their every little move was fascinating to this city girl. Scratching, flapping, running, dancing, fighting, perching, bathing and clucking. I was enthralled with my new flock and got to know their many cackles and calls ~ finding food, spotting a hawk, announcing a cat in the yard, the roosters first crow. And then one day, the triumphant sound of the laying song. Fresh eggs.
In the early days every chicken had a name. And every fallen comrade had a grave stone. How we loved those first ten pullets. And fall they did. I lost the first four to my dog. And then we had a bad run with a family of raccoons. Everyone wants to eat a chicken. But me. One soon learns the temporal nature of the chicken. It could be a Buddhist tenant. Do not become attached to a chicken ~ they will only break your heart. This is a hard lesson to learn, but it has made me a better caretaker. And a hardier urban farmer. I have learned to always shut the coop up by dusk, how to better keep out raccoons and the danger of city dogs.
With that said, if predators are kept at bay, chickens can be very hardy. I still have two ladies left from the original ten. Flicka and Cocoa. Those girls have survived cold, wet, snow, frost, extreme heat and animal attacks. Half of Flicka's flank was ripped off in a coon attack. She has healed and is still going strong. She does not even limp anymore.
I still love to gaze at the ladies in the yard. But I do not name them anymore. The herd has grown. And the love affair has become like a steady relationship. With a bond needing few words. Or names. Endearments are always nice, though. Hello little sisters. How ya hanging?
I will still name the rooster. And the name Rudra the Rooster shall stand. Until it becomes Mr Stewboy. And then the title Rudra is laid to rest for another season. But his feathers are gathered to be fashioned into a Mardi Gras Bonnet.
That is another story. For another time.
Tips for your first backyard chickens ~
Investigate & Study ~ If you can, go to a nearby farm or city critter yard where someone is raising chickens. This is very helpful for you to see the set up and the coop, the laying boxes, and the yard and to ask them questions. Also do research through books and online as to types of breeds. Keep your climate in mind when picking out your breed.
Build a coop ~ Build a coop first! Do not bring home chicks from the market. First, prepare, look at plans and build a coop. Or buy a ready made coop. Before you bring your chickens home, buy your feed and have your watering method ready. Then go fetch yourself some chickens. And give them love.
Give them love ~ Chickens need the same things that all living creatures need. They need companionship (do not bring home one solitary chicken. they will be sad). Chickens, like all creatures, need room to move, exercise, sunshine, fresh water, dirt baths, someone to lock them up every night, or a guard dog, and again, love. Which simply means watching over the flock with care. If you do not have the time for this, chickens are not for you.
They are easy. But not that easy. The work is well worth the reward. Having chickens has changed my life. In ways that are difficult to put into words. Chickens are a gateway livestock. Into another world, which has lead to goats, a mule, ducks, turkeys and a pig, connecting me with an ancient energy of husbandry. We are now dreaming of fencing in the whole estate and getting some sheep. We shall see how our little herd grows. But I remember which came first. chicken love.
