- Jun 3, 2019
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I didn’t grow up with chickens by any means. Never once in my childhood did I think I would where I am now. As a young elementary schooler, my best friend had chickens in gern backyard and I loved going over to her house because her chickens were so cute and fluffy (save her giant roo named Ram who literally came up to my hip in middle school (I currently stand at 5’9)). She would call to her chickens and they would run up to her and give her all the love. They wouldn’t run when you tried to pick them up either which was twice the fun! Later in my middle school years, probably about sixth grade, my family went through some hard times and I was living with my grandparents for awhile. Well one Wednesday night I got ready for youth but my outfit was garabage. I didn’t know the kids in my youth like I do now and was wanted to make a good impression. Well I lacking such confidence that my mom and I got back in the car and drove to the Tractor Supply right down the road to look at the chicks and maybe pick out a Schleich or two. In my dampened spirits, I watched the dozens and dozens of chicks chirping and playing. After a long moment, my mother looked at me and made a subtle phone call. Once she finished she said, “Do you want to get some?” And of course I said yes. We talked to the employee and got the weird barrel thing we still have today, along with a heat lamp, water and feeder and a bag of chick feed. Then we went back to the dozens of chicks where I picked out two barred rocks, an Isa brown, two Rhode Island reds, and a slow white broiler. We drove back to my grandparents and set up the tub in the basement
(I wanted a good picture before I plugged in the heat lamp) Once we went back home the group moved into my room and lived there until I found them scattered about one day after school. Once they were old enough, we bought them a coop and build a run where only Spot, the broiler, couldn’t get out. We were lucky. Out of all the birds we got from the straight run, only Remmy was a roo. We also found that he wasn’t a barred rock but a Dominecker. Fun times as he tried to kill us several times. Unfortunately he also abused Spot who’d we called Fatty as a nickname. Since she could no longer walk we put her in a solitary space, letting her walk around when we got home. Our first egg came from a Rhode Island and all of our girls layed wonderfully, Peeper laying twice a day sometimes. We’re going to skip to today. Spot died from natural causes just shy of her first bday. Remmy and Bear were taken by a raccoon shortly after moving to our farm and Peeper was taken by a hawk. We only have two hens left from that first batch and the remaining Rhode Island just hatched her first chicks a couple weeks ago. Our flock when from six to twenty four chickens, five ducks and a guinea. These birds have kept my family together and they will always hold a special place in my heart.
