A small flock of chickens enjoyed some sunshine and nutrient-rich bugs in someone's fenced front yard. You get happier, healthier chickens, healthier eggs, and the origins of "hunt and peck" as a result.
Elaine, I'm fond of the black and white speckled on. Quite handsome. My daughter's school had two of those and I can still see her running around the yard being chased by her favorite, Chester. Ron's right about naming your chicken. My cousin and I got chicks at Easter one year from the local pet store and brought them home without telling our parents. My mom made me give mine up, but my cousin's pop built a little coop and the chicken grew to adulthood. One night after a fried chicken dinner she couldn't find her chicken in the backyard. Oh my. :-) I don't think she ever forgave her pop for that one!
I miss your daily photo. My google reader seems to automatically hover for just a second as I pass Willits Daily Photo--I can't quite bring myself to delete it. In protest, I've sulked and not come here but I give in cause I miss your pics about your home.
Ron - We had a banty rooster and two hens for about a year when I was in the 4th grade. Only one hen laid, and we would take turns on who got to eat the egg. The yolks were stout and richly orange-yellow, unlike any I had seen from the store. The rooster, King Midas, actually *liked* to be picked up and held under your arm. Eventually, they were all sent into retirement in the country somewhere outside of Sacramento, so we never got to the death point.
Kim - The farming generations before us got these reality checks far more early and often than we did. I was about eight or nine when I was instructed to watch my grandfather clean a deer in his barn. It was pretty interesting/icky but I didn't have a problem eating the resulting venison. However, I couldn't eat applesauce for years after that -- at one point, the half-digested autumn apple contents of the buck's stomach plopped out of its neck stub onto the ground (It was hung up by its hind feet). Years, it took me.
Kym - Aw, thank you. I really am relieved to have this flexibility with the Overflow blog rather than the daily thing. I don't expect to have as many visitors here, since it certainly will be less predictable, but I am so grateful for the connections that WDP gave me. Spring is on its way, and I was pondering calling for a photo meet here in Willits for whoever wants to do it. Maybe some Sunday, after an Ardella's breakfast. 6^) Thanks again.
4 comments:
Let's hear it for home owned chickens!
I grew up with chickens. If you are just collecting eggs it is fine to give them names but it is rough going if you plan to eat them!!
Elaine, I'm fond of the black and white speckled on. Quite handsome. My daughter's school had two of those and I can still see her running around the yard being chased by her favorite, Chester.
Ron's right about naming your chicken. My cousin and I got chicks at Easter one year from the local pet store and brought them home without telling our parents. My mom made me give mine up, but my cousin's pop built a little coop and the chicken grew to adulthood. One night after a fried chicken dinner she couldn't find her chicken in the backyard. Oh my. :-) I don't think she ever forgave her pop for that one!
I miss your daily photo. My google reader seems to automatically hover for just a second as I pass Willits Daily Photo--I can't quite bring myself to delete it. In protest, I've sulked and not come here but I give in cause I miss your pics about your home.
Ron - We had a banty rooster and two hens for about a year when I was in the 4th grade. Only one hen laid, and we would take turns on who got to eat the egg. The yolks were stout and richly orange-yellow, unlike any I had seen from the store. The rooster, King Midas, actually *liked* to be picked up and held under your arm. Eventually, they were all sent into retirement in the country somewhere outside of Sacramento, so we never got to the death point.
Kim - The farming generations before us got these reality checks far more early and often than we did. I was about eight or nine when I was instructed to watch my grandfather clean a deer in his barn. It was pretty interesting/icky but I didn't have a problem eating the resulting venison. However, I couldn't eat applesauce for years after that -- at one point, the half-digested autumn apple contents of the buck's stomach plopped out of its neck stub onto the ground (It was hung up by its hind feet). Years, it took me.
Kym - Aw, thank you. I really am relieved to have this flexibility with the Overflow blog rather than the daily thing. I don't expect to have as many visitors here, since it certainly will be less predictable, but I am so grateful for the connections that WDP gave me. Spring is on its way, and I was pondering calling for a photo meet here in Willits for whoever wants to do it. Maybe some Sunday, after an Ardella's breakfast. 6^) Thanks again.
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