castillo_de_luz
Mother of Diamonds
I hope some of you experienced chicken keepers can remember all the way back to your first foray into the world of chickens and perhaps sympathize with how I'm feeling. Or maybe I'm nuts.
I'm a born and raised city and suburban dweller -- I've never been on a horse, held a baby goat, milked a cow, or umm interacted with chickens. Ever. My childhood pets were fish, a pet store parakeet, and indoor cats (and my current household is run by one precious Maine Coon cat).
As the house hunt shifted from a small condo or townhouse to a real SFH on some land, I started thinking about chickens. Fresh eggs. Great compost for a new veggie garden. So when we moved to this 1-acre property last year, I knew it was time to get serious and make a plan for a small flock.
I've probably done more research than most would consider healthy, and fortunately have access to real live human friends who are longtime chicken people and have provided real-world information too. I think I'm as prepared as anyone can possibly be at this point, T-minus 49 days from picking up 5 Dominique pullets.
As excited and happy as I usually am, there's a part of me that's terrified of taking this whole thing on. What if I hate it? What if I can't tolerate all the poop and cleaning? What if we get a rat infestation? What if the birds get super sick, or hurt, or killed in some horrific way? I understand intellectually that any of these things could happen, but unlike other areas of my life, I have no previous experience in dealing with this. I'm not overly squeamish about some things, but disgusting smells or a mauled bird... I don't know how I'd react to that.
This whole post is really just to say that I'm 70% excited to begin the chicken adventure but 30% horrified at the many possible forms of misery this entire undertaking could produce. And believe it or not, this is considered progress in "well-managed anxiety" for me!
Words of advice? Sanity check? Anyone else felt/feel this way, or have a different personal tale to add to the Chicken Confessional? (Corn-fessional?)
I'm a born and raised city and suburban dweller -- I've never been on a horse, held a baby goat, milked a cow, or umm interacted with chickens. Ever. My childhood pets were fish, a pet store parakeet, and indoor cats (and my current household is run by one precious Maine Coon cat).
As the house hunt shifted from a small condo or townhouse to a real SFH on some land, I started thinking about chickens. Fresh eggs. Great compost for a new veggie garden. So when we moved to this 1-acre property last year, I knew it was time to get serious and make a plan for a small flock.
I've probably done more research than most would consider healthy, and fortunately have access to real live human friends who are longtime chicken people and have provided real-world information too. I think I'm as prepared as anyone can possibly be at this point, T-minus 49 days from picking up 5 Dominique pullets.
As excited and happy as I usually am, there's a part of me that's terrified of taking this whole thing on. What if I hate it? What if I can't tolerate all the poop and cleaning? What if we get a rat infestation? What if the birds get super sick, or hurt, or killed in some horrific way? I understand intellectually that any of these things could happen, but unlike other areas of my life, I have no previous experience in dealing with this. I'm not overly squeamish about some things, but disgusting smells or a mauled bird... I don't know how I'd react to that.
This whole post is really just to say that I'm 70% excited to begin the chicken adventure but 30% horrified at the many possible forms of misery this entire undertaking could produce. And believe it or not, this is considered progress in "well-managed anxiety" for me!

Words of advice? Sanity check? Anyone else felt/feel this way, or have a different personal tale to add to the Chicken Confessional? (Corn-fessional?)