The air was thick with humidity and the
thunderclouds were rolling in. We were cleaning out the garage and getting
sweaty with the dirty dusty air we were kicking up from the brooms. The teasing
of the cool storm air was starting to feel good, the cleaning was getting done,
then it began. Thunder clapped and the rain came pouring onto our earth.
Two weeks prior to this, we were newbie
chicken farmers with our sweet young pullets getting settled into their new
coop. We were taking the newness in stride much like a young mother learns as
her baby grows. Little by little we were making small victories as each stage
of development took hold for our chickens.
Then we adopted 33 loud, large and
crazy chickens. 4 of which were roosters. Our friends needed a temporary
shelter for their birds during a transition in their life and we had room. Our
serene world of ease and slowly working towards full blown layers changed in
minutes. My farming took to a whole new level and life was getting crazy!
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| Happy "new" chickens getting some grit |
We built a very solid chicken coop with lots
of protection for the birds to stay safe at night from all the wondering
coyotes and other predators. We were very successful in getting them used to
their new digs, all except for the temporary nesting boxes...as they were
pooping all over, fighting over one space and laying eggs in bizarre
places.
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| See the chicken underneath trying to steal the place of the red hen? |
The outside time was a little more exciting
as the electro-netting we were using from the owners was glorified snow fencing
because there was no charger for it here. It didn't seem to be a large problem
in the first few days as the birds mostly loved all the dandelions we had
provided for them. A few birds would get loose and we would chase them down and
get them back in. But all in all, no harm was done. That is until one of our
roosters decided to wander over to our neighbor’s yard where their large dog
decided to "play" with the rooster and played a little too hard.
First casualty.
So back to our stormy day...the rain was
pounding the earth outside our garage, but the clean air smelled and felt
great. We were having a great start to the day...until we saw a very wet
rooster, running for his life. He cruised by our garage heading for our
neighbors to the north. WHAT?!?
"Kids! Get your mud boots
on, we have to go grab that bird!"
No sooner had those words come out of my
mouth, when we saw another rooster and his hens bookin' it across our yard to
our neighbors! What is going on? Two of my kids ran to try and "herd"
those chickens back to the barn and then I saw the culprit down by the barn.
Our neighbor's dog was chasing the other hens into the barn and cornering them.
Feathers were flying!
The neighbor girl who had been over with us
ran to go get her dog. The thunder was all around us, the rain was pelting us
and chickens were scared out of their mind. I caught up with her by the pole
barn where she had grabbed her dog. We were looking around at all the chicken
feathers scattered on the ground in utter disbelief, at the insanity of it all.
Was there any casualties? We quickly peeked around the corner to where the
fencing started and in the fence there was one really scared hen caught in the
fence. We helped set her free and then we saw it...casualty number two. The
neighbor girl promptly took her dog to her house to lock it up and I tried to
get my bearings. Wet dead bird. Gross. A gazillion terrified birds running
loose in the storm. Nuts. I think I want to go back to bed.
The kids decided to try and grab the birds one
by one and haul them into the coop. We were all wet, muddy and grumpy at the
situation. We managed to gather 15 of the birds safely in coop. The other hens
were under the front porch of our house. I figured they would come out when the
storm was over. There was one in the garage tucked up so tight in a corner
underneath a shelf, we could barely see her, but she was there. That first
crazed rooster? He headed for the hills. With all the birds we could muster
were safe in the coop, we decided to go inside and relax till the storm blew
by.
As the birds started surfacing one by one, we
got the birds in the coop. We counted 27 birds. Still missing some.
"They'll surface eventually," we thought. I got the inside waterers
all filled as the humidity was back with a vengeance and the heat was starting
to pour in. Don't want more dead birds from heat-stroke! It was time to fix the
fencing. As I climbed over the netting, I realized in horror that there were
two dead birds to take care of...not to mention that our neighbor girls thought
they saw a dead one in the field.
I think this would be a great time to let you
in on a little secret of mine. I'm scared of picking up birds. Happy birds,
little birds, big birds, dead birds...not a fan of holding them. I'm chicken to
pick up chickens...I know, seems weird that I wanted to have chickens and I'm
not fond of the whole holding chicken thing. The good news is that my two
oldest kids aren't scared and are affectionately known as my chicken wranglers.
It's a problem I'm bound to overcome through this adventure of chicken raising.
I have to. No way around it. Some day when my kiddos are all grown up, who' s
gonna be wrangling chickens then? Moi! But I digress...back to the
story.
3 dead chickens.
3 wet dead chickens.
3 wet
dead chickens lying in the blistering sun.
3 wet dead chickens lying in the
blistering sun with swarms of flies around them.
1 big chicken that looks like me holding a
bucket and wearing gloves and hyperventilating at the prospect of picking up
these...these...ugh! I have to do it!
After talking myself through this and praying
for the Lord to help me through this, I went into action. Wincing at the weight
of the lifeless bird in my gloved hand I threw it in the bucket and it landed
with a thud. One done, two to go. As sweat was trickling down me, hauling a
dead chicken around in a bucket and being brave to pick up the next two, I was
thinking about how much I was growing in this single act of dead chicken
removal. Thinking about how I taught my kids that sometimes to get over our
fears we have to meet them head on and face it. Realizing that I was
experiencing exactly that, I mustered up the strength to keep trudging through
muddy fields with a very heavy bucket full of dead chickens.
That was my day yesterday. That was a growing
experience. That was a true test of moving forward as a farmer or retreating
back to the safety of a sterile environment where everything was packaged nice
and neat. Farming isn’t always idyllic and beautiful with the meadows full of
flowers and cattle gently grazing in the fields. There is death and there is
fear and there is definitely going to be things that gross you out.
And if you were wondering, Mr. Fancy Pants, the
rogue rooster who headed for the hills, came back after hearing his fellow
rooster crowing in the now safe confines of the hen pen.
April
