Part III – For the Birds!
Deciding to keep chickens is a decision akin to getting married. One must never make the decision lightly. All of those vows you take … they’ll come back to haunt you!
I didn’t want them. I was adamant. I had been responsible for chickens as a kid, and was sour as a lemon at the prospect of doing it again. I told Gary he was on his own, and he was OK with that. A glorious chicken coop was built and branded Cluckingham Palace. Seven tiny, yellow chicks were purchased along with all the accessories; feed, feeders, waterers, bedding materials, and eventually nesting materials, poultry first aid books and medicines, and many little colored plastic bands.
I have named them. I talk to them. I pet them. When they laid their first eggs, I was beyond proud of them. I have learned which hen laid which color and shape egg. I track lineages. I record family trees. I assist in bumble foot surgeries and bandage various wounds. I watch over epsom salt baths. I eagerly await each hatchling from each batch, even when the chickens hatch eggs on their own. I have learned about wry neck and splay leg, and how to treat them. I have learned to recognize “broodiness”, tolerate cannibalism, and isolate chickens with problem behaviors.
I love them. Every last one.
I remind myself daily that they are livestock, not pets. They have limited usefulness, specific purposes, and necessarily short lives. I remind myself that they are not exactly intelligent, certainly not compassionate, and often brutal with each other.
And then I see that picture of Ginger on Barbara’s shoulder, looking like the queen she is. Or the one of Chip on the roosting bar with little Chirp tucked under her protective wing. I see Isabel and am reminded that her coloring is different because she’s descended from Queen Ginger (4 generations back). I listen to their clicks and clucks, egg songs and rooster reveille. I miss them when they’re gone.
We planned a trip to Florida to buy hatching eggs for Black Copper Marans back in September, and Gary surprised me with a dozen Ayam Cemani eggs because I said I liked them. We now have 20 black chickens along with the 27 buffs. I plan to keep the flocks small; one rooster and five or six hens each. We’ll see how long that lasts. Likewise, I wasn’t surprised when Gary acquired 36 quail eggs and popped them in the incubator, resulting in 22 of the tiniest little peeps I’ve ever seen. They should be laying around New Year’s.
We currently house and care for 85 birds, folks. In only two years, we have gone from 7 to 85 birds. That doesn’t count the ones we’ve sold, the ones who died of one thing or another, the ones we’ve eaten, or the one that just disappeared. 153 birds total … from 7.
Don’t … get … chickens.