artbykarenehaley
Crowing
Oh I was in love with chickens from such an early age.
My kindergarten was next door to the local Co Op. I once got in trouble for leaving the school during recess to see the chicks. I even told my Kindergarten teacher I wanted to own the co op and become a co op lady when I grew up, so I could always play with baby chicks.
In addition to my obsession with the feed store, I grew up in the old farmhouse (built 100 years before I was born). Its the house my mother grew up in. it's not the historic, period correct house you would imagine. There's shortpile, rust orange "library carpet" in the kitchen (always hated it!) And those seventies style lumpy carpets upstairs in pea soup green and goldenrod. But it was on four acres of paradise for a chicken loving kid like me.
My favorite place was the chicken coop; situated beside the metal shop building my dad kept the hay for the small herd of hereford cattle in. I would spend most of my time sitting "in chicken poop all day" as my mom jokingly said, letting my chickens sit on my lap, hide under my legs, and feeding them their feed from my hands.
They were wonderful. Especially the baby chicks.
Every few years I'd save all the money I could get from selling eggs, drawings, or veggies, and I would place an order over the phone to get a box of chicks from a hatchery.
My science projects always involved an incubator.
I feel a bit limited now, with my backyard maximum of six laying hens, and our financial situation is not conducive to living on a farm like I did as a child. So I live vicariously through all of you whenever I get wistful for fuzzy lil chicks.
My kindergarten was next door to the local Co Op. I once got in trouble for leaving the school during recess to see the chicks. I even told my Kindergarten teacher I wanted to own the co op and become a co op lady when I grew up, so I could always play with baby chicks.
In addition to my obsession with the feed store, I grew up in the old farmhouse (built 100 years before I was born). Its the house my mother grew up in. it's not the historic, period correct house you would imagine. There's shortpile, rust orange "library carpet" in the kitchen (always hated it!) And those seventies style lumpy carpets upstairs in pea soup green and goldenrod. But it was on four acres of paradise for a chicken loving kid like me.
My favorite place was the chicken coop; situated beside the metal shop building my dad kept the hay for the small herd of hereford cattle in. I would spend most of my time sitting "in chicken poop all day" as my mom jokingly said, letting my chickens sit on my lap, hide under my legs, and feeding them their feed from my hands.
They were wonderful. Especially the baby chicks.
Every few years I'd save all the money I could get from selling eggs, drawings, or veggies, and I would place an order over the phone to get a box of chicks from a hatchery.
My science projects always involved an incubator.
I feel a bit limited now, with my backyard maximum of six laying hens, and our financial situation is not conducive to living on a farm like I did as a child. So I live vicariously through all of you whenever I get wistful for fuzzy lil chicks.