When we first bought some chickens, it was March 10, 2018. All I remember about chickens growing up was my Granny had big white chickens and a few mean Roos. One tried to flog me (I was about five years old). I remember walking up the hill from my Uncle Tom's to Granny's. First there was a dead chicken snake next to the path and that Roo was busy eating it. Well, he came after me like I was going to take his dinner and Granny was in the yard hoeing something or other. Next thing I new, that Roosters head was laying on the ground and Granny picked him up. She said, "Looks like we are going to have a nice dinner". That was the end of that.
There was a few chickens on my Uncle's farm, but he didn't feed them or anything. They were on their own. I don't think anybody gathered their eggs. We'd find nests in the barn with shells remaining. Sometimes you would see baby chicks, but not for very long. I tried raising a hatchling from a cracked open egg, the momma was nowhere to be found. Was a sad experience for me, I was about nine...it died to put it simply.
I think I've turned the curve, nothing dead unintentionally yet!
First "brooder", made from a cardboard box that we kept adding too as the chicks grew. After they were in the house for five weeks or more, I vowed never to have a "brooder" in the house again. Dust and feathers were all over everything in that room. But I did it again, only for a week this time since the chickens were born in early August, we were able to raise them outside in a portable coop.