i am a chicken farmer part 3

M and I were enjoying the bliss that one has during the chicken honeymoon period.  We sat for hours playing with the babies, petting them and praising ourselves for being such forward thinkers.  We talked endlessly about different egg recipes, coop plans and all the chicken knowledge we gathered on the internet the night before.  The chicks were handled constantly by many small hands and even brought indoors for bonding purposes because what use is it to have a chicken if it can’t be brought indoors to watch TV on your lap?  We all had our turn being christened by hot stinky chicken poop.  Turns out even if a chicken really really loves you they will still poop on you.  Never read that in all my chicken research.   

The brooder cage was kept in M’s garage.  The door went up in the morning and down at night to keep our little ones safe.  We cleaned the cage daily lining it with newspaper because God forbid their little toes have to step on the wire bottom of the cage.  These were some pampered chicks. 

We got down to business naming them.  We had agreed ahead of time that we would be raising some conservative, biblical and wholesome hens and their names needed to reflect that.  Because you know if we would have named one Lexus or Gucci they would have turned out… well you know…  So bible names it was and if not biblical at least something that conjures up Little House on the Prarie or something with innocent country charm.  No Disney characters or types of chicken dishes (Kiev, Nugget, Patty etc…).  We are serious chicken farmers here and this was a big decision.  This is the point we felt the need to create the board of directors.   Truthfully the board of directors includes only M and myself.  Our husbands think they sit on the board but they are really just honorary members with little voting power.  Scott and E (M’s husband) do not read this blog, please do not pass this information on.  Thank you kindly in advance.  I've since deemed M the additional title of head of security but more on that later.  In the end the board of directors settled on the following names:

Splash Silkie: Eden

Red Frizzle: Goldie

Bigger Buff Orphington: Elizabeth

Smaller Buff Orphington: Josephine aka Josie

Bigger Cuckoo Maran: Esther

Smaller Cuckoo Maran: Delilah

Easter Egger: Robin

Polish Top Hat: Magdalene aka Maggie

Golden Laced Wyandotte: Willa

I soon ordered some chicken nipples that would resolve the madness that came with trying to keep the water dish clean.  We fashioned them to the bottom of some two liter soda bottles and used cable ties to hang them in the brooder.  I worked hard to teach all the girls the chicken nipple system.  I and pulled out a stool and sat and sat and sat.  I would tap the nipple to make it leak and peck at it with my finger mimicking a chicken beak.  They would all stand there very curious and then one at a time I would hold their beak to the nipple and trickle water out.  I made a list of all of our babies and then marked them off as they demonstrated chicken nipple competency.  It took 2 days before I felt comfortable removing the old messy watering system.  This is how I determined where each chicken fell on the IQ spectrum.  The smartest by far are the Buff Orphingtons.  They catch on to everything so much faster than any of the other breeds.  It appears the more ornamental and pretty the bird the lower the IQ.  I don’t believe in most stereotypes but have to say that silkies must be the dumb blondes of the chicken world (not that I actually believe that any blondes are dumb).  So sweet and funny and lots of fun but maybe not a lot going on up top. 

The chickens were very popular with the kids.  I think M was a bit overwhelmed when six children would show up in her garage at all hours of the day and night all begging to hold chicks at the same time.  We were trying to keep a low profile in the neighborhood and six children whining and dancing around a cage in the garage with the door wide opens tends to draw attention.  Not to mention none of these children had valid chicken experience so dropping chicks resulting in a flock of children chasing a flock of flapping chicks out into the street was a real possibility.  M suggested we only allow two children at a time to hold the chicks and also implemented a rule that no child should open the brooder without an adult present.  This is why she is such a good farming partner, she’s logical.  I would probably just go on dealing with the crazy if it wasn't for her and her common sense.   I think we were both excited for the novelty of the chicks to wear off.  It since has and we've come to a happy place.  The children that are actually interested in chickens are now experienced enough to know how to handle the chickens and keep them safe.  Those who are less interested observe but are done begging to hold the chickens. 

We fell into a nice routine of cleaning the cage, bringing in fresh clumps of dirt with green grass, feeding and watering.  When we would run out of newspaper for the pan below the cage we would send one of the children to the corner to gather enough of the free Senior Life or Florida Weekly papers. 

While at Linda’s chicken farm M had discussed some additional chickens we’d be interested in and several days after getting our flock integrated M got news that Linda had just received a shipment of Polish Top Hats.  They were 1 day old.  M drove back out and picked up two.  They appeared to be similar in size to my little black frizzle that I had picked up at Haley’s farm so we put all three of them together in a 20 gallon turtle aquarium that I had laying around from a previous free turtle adventure.  The three chicks got along quite well and so became roomies.

We added the following to the flock:

Splash Polish Top Hat: Pearl

Silver Laced Polish Top Hat: Lacey

These babies had to be under the light so we dug through E’s workshop searching for extension cords and strung them across the garage.  We rigged up a brooder light that we could raise and lower as needed.   

We now had a flock of nine.  M and I cleaned them out regularly and I swept the floor daily but I still felt a twinge of guilt every time I entered the garage/coop.  I couldn't help but feeling like we’d infringed on M's husband’s territory.  We unplugged one of his garage door openers to have an outlet for the brooder light, I used his table saw stand to hold the baby chick’s aquarium, stole some of his cable ties to wire part of the cage shut, and made use of all the tools I needed.   He was probably sick of seeing me occupying his garage day and night but I needed to be with my flock.  After all, we were bonding.  One day I called M to see if she could open the garage door for me and she instructed me to sneak through the house because she was laying down with the baby.  I snuck through the back door as instructed, crept through the house like a cat burglar and tiptoed out into the garage.  I couldn't find the light switch so I went about watering, feeding and cleaning the cage in the near dark.  Suddenly the kitchen door squeaked open and I watched M’s mother in law come out to start a load of laundry.  I froze while I struggled with how to announce my presence.  I knew any movement or sound would startle her and so I cowered near the corner waiting.  She screamed as we made eye while I apologized and stumbled over my tongue trying to make her understand why I the creepy neighbor lady was lurking in her garage in the dark.  She was quite understanding however she probably feels like she's being watched every time she comes out into the garage at night.  The funniest run in though was the day I walked over extra early in the morning.  I was happy to see that the garage door was up and I could do what I needed to do without disturbing anyone.  As I rounded the corner about to start babbling and saying good morning to my hens I caught a glimpse of some skin.  M’s husband was bent over in front of the washer wearing some very small shorts or boxers or something.  I don’t recall exactly what the outfit was because I was so focused on back pedaling as quickly and cautiously as possible.   Being a rather robust woman, I am not often described as stealthy, quick or light footed but I assure you I was silent and lightening quick as I raced for the safety of my own yard.  I was a thousand shades of red as I tried to undo what had just almost played out.  That was a really close call.  I felt guilty enough but if his eyes would have met mine I think I would have died.   I never mentioned that run in to anyone except my own boys who asked what was wrong when I came flying into the house sputtering and red and sweating.  After my two run ins I think it was safe to say we were all excited to get these chickens out of the garage.  I was tired of being the peeping bird woman, the chickens wanted sunshine and dirt, M’s husband probably wanted his garage and his privacy back. 

For all you women out there ready to execute a chicken purchase just as soon as your husband finishes your dream coop listen up.  Nothing will motivate you husband to build a coop faster than allowing nine stinky chickens and one creepy neighbor lady to occupy his beloved man cave.  Do not wait I tell you, buy those birds and let your husband find the natural motivation to build that coop. 

i am a chicken farmer part 2

Although the Chicken King experience was a bit discouraging we pushed on.  Our chicken dreams would not be crushed that easily.  Back to the drawing board.  We went back and forth weighing whether we should order eggs and deal with the roosters that would no doubt hatch with our precious hens or whether we would order chicks even though that would mean having a large amount of one breed because they often won't ship small orders without charging an a silly amount ($65 per bird) for shipping.  I had a vision of the two of us sitting in our lawn chairs drinking something beautiful with a varied rainbow of ridiculously flamboyant chickens frolicking about.  I was not ready to give up or willing to make a second appearance at the gate of the Chicken King's castle so it was back to the endless chicken research. 

We were so close to clicking the purchase button on a few birds and paying some CRAZY amount when a last desperate peek at Craigslist paid off.  An ad appeared out of nowhere offering several of the varieties of chicks we were interested in within about 30 minutes of our empty chicken brooder.  I fell in love with the first chicken lady the minute I spoke with her.  Linda oozed with feathery chicken passion when she spoke of her birds.  She suggested we come out and see her flock and ended our conversation by telling me that even if we didn't buy any of her chicks she would still love to have us out to show them off. 

The next day M and I loaded all eight of our children into our vehicles and headed out of the city to the country.  Old Florida country is beautiful.  Endless green pastures and ancient oaks dripping with Spanish moss adorned the roadsides.  I was day dreaming the entire ride out there of barn boots and front porches and sweet smelling laundry on clotheslines.  Soon we rolled up at the chicken paradise.  The gate, the winding road and the free ranging cattle made me long to have acreage and a matching farm.  The chicken woman greeted us warmly and wasted no time bringing us into her very large coop and run area. 

We were supposed to be focusing on picking out chickens however being chicken newbies we were also intrigued at every chicken supply and technique  Linda used.  It was so useful to see a successful method in place and producing happy chickens that I wanted to mentally document it all.  The buckets she used for nest boxes, the way she integrated new chicks into the rest of the flock, the chicken nipple watering system she used and on and on.  I had to force myself to focus eventually and make some decisions on who to bring home with us.  Linda was so patient with all of us and our children and even held a baby so M could hold a chicken.  She had the opposite mindset, demeanor and chicken raising philosophy from the annoying Chicken King.  I think Linda would have let us sit there all day petting her chickens and asking ridiculous novice chicken questions.  She never rushed us or judged or questioned or challenged us.  When we said we wanted pretty she showed us pretty birds.  When we said we wanted Easter colored eggs she showed us Easter Eggers.  She understood our vision and she had a coop cat which was a clear sign of her intelligence and trustworthiness. 

We had eight children in her coop at one time and the children were naturally calm and gentle with all the birds they selected.  We ended up picking out six chicks from Linda.  There was a little squabble about what chicks were riding with what children and I had to nurse the baby but after that we settled everyone in and the rain started to come down as we drove away to make our chicken dreams a reality.   

Our flock now consisted of:

2 Cuckoo Marans

2 Buff Orphingtons

1 Polish Top Hat

1 Golden Laced Wyandotte

We needed to feed the children on the way home.  Ironically M led the way and decided to  swing into the KFC drive through.  I sent her a text letting her know this was wrong on several levels and such a cold welcome for our chicks but followed her nonetheless.  To make matters worse this was the world’s slowest KFC and we ended up transferring all the chicks to M’s vehicle while waiting in line in the drive through.  I can only imagine what the other customers thought.  I know I giggled at the thought of it all as I ran through the rain to the back of M’s car with chicks in hand. 

We brought the one week chicks home to M's garage where we had set up the brooder.  The brooder was the old quail cage upcycled and scrubbed to remove any remaining quail body parts from the previous quail massacre. 

We were satisfied with our babies for about 24 hours and then decided we needed more.  I located yet another chicken lady with more of the chicken breeds we wanted with a similar mentality and passion for feathers.  Haley lived a bit further out in the country but I was up for another drive.  I headed out with all my boys and arrived at a similar farm.  I was greeted by several rather pushy goats upon exiting the van.  They were playful but demanding of attention.  Eventually several of my littles took to riding them and that seemed to occupy both the boys and the goats which allowed me to shop for chickens.   It was difficult enough to shop while keeping the goat rodeo in my peripheral vision but I felt like I needed to include M in any decisions so I was photographing and texting chick pics to her as fast as possible.  I believe that's known as Chexting.  Photographing chickens is a real challenge.  Some of them are not very photogenic or just look evil in photos but I did my best.  

Haley had one of our favorite breeds, silkies.  She had saved one splash silkie from a recent hatch because if seemed extra special and seemed to approve of our grand chicken vision and felt we would be a great fit.  The bumbling silkie is the silliest thing to watch.  One cannot watch a silkie hopping across the yard in its fluffy pajamas without cracking a smile unless you have no soul I suppose or are the Chicken King and see no value in pretty chickens.  M confirmed that we needed the silkie for sure.  I selected a black frizzle that had the most gorgeous turned out feathers I’d seen yet.  I also selected an Easter Egger.  I don’t find Easter Eggers beautiful however, their eggs are amazing colors so she was on my list to come home.  After selecting my three birds Haley told me she’d let me have a free one.  A free chicken?  I was hesitant because I was not sure how many chickens M expected me to return with but had my eye on a red frizzle that was beautiful but more importantly had a winning personality.  She had been following us around begging to be petted.  She was sweet and trusting.  Not a sketcher like M calls the skittish ones.    I decided to surprise M with her. 

While looking at chickens we walked past Haley’s rabbit cages.  She raises lion head rabbits.  I accidentally petted one and then accidentally ask to hold one and then accidentally fell in love…

I loaded up my boys, four new chicks, 1 snuggly baby rabbit and one smelly goat that wanted so badly to get in my van.  In the end the goat decided to stay at the farm.  Huck proclaimed that he would hold the puppy (the rabbit) on the way home and he did.

Look at that photo and tell me that you could have resisted bringing her home.  I seriously doubt it!

We added the following to our flock:

1 White Silkie

1 Red Frizzle

1 Black Frizzle

1 Easter Egger

1 Lion Head rabbit

I sent a text to my not so farmy husband that included photos of the five chickens I had just purchased.  He did not seem to note that the fifth chicken was actually our rabbit. 

We stopped at a farm supply store on the way home.  I include this detail only to make sure it's documented in this record that they were selling chicks and ducklings both and I was able to walk out of the store without buying any of them.  That may be important evidence later in the event that anyone determines that I have some sort of farm animal hoarding condition. 

I predict both of our newly discovered chicken ladies will offer a wealth of information for weeks to come as we have more questions and possibly want to add more to our flock.  M keeps in contact with Linda who has also agreed to take any unwanted or unintended roosters that we end up with.  Which is an amazing resource because I understand figuring out what to do with unwanted roosters can be a bit of a predicament if you aren't interested in culling them.  We talked back and forth a few times since our purchases and look forward to having a long chicken relationship in the future.  I recently played matchmaker when a friend of mine ask me if I would like to be the new owner of her pot belly pig named Luna.  I declined but hooked her up with my chicken lady.  Who knew I was a livestock matchmaker? 

Our original chicks were all young enough that they welcomed the new family members without issue.  To date they all get along as though they were hatched together.  Our flock now included nine hens and we were complete… for awhile.

i am a chicken farmer part 1

I am a chicken farmer.  I am an urban chicken farmer.  I am an urban chicken farmer raising fancy chickens.  I am a super hip urban chicken farmer raising fancy chickens.  I am a super hip urban chicken farmer raising fancy chickens in a Pinterest worthy coop.  I am a super hip urban chicken farmer raising fancy chickens in a custom built Pinterest worthy coop with my slightly more hip neighbors. 

There, I like how that sounds now.  I have been speaking it into existence over the last few weeks.  It’s all migrated from my daydreams into to my reality except maybe for the hip part.  While self fulfilling prophecy can place chickens in one’s back yard I am not certain it can be powerful enough transform one into someone others would describe as hip.  But just in case…  I am a super hip momma that can fit into super cute size eight farm girl overalls… I am a super hip momma that can fit into super cute size eight farm girl overalls…

I have wanted chickens or some type of poultry for years or at least since the great passing of the quail flock.  Many obstacles stood in my path particularly my common sense and my husband.  These were both easily overcame a few weeks ago when my neighbor M casually mentioned to me that she would love to have backyard chickens.  I proceeded to tell her my quail story and my shared desire to have backyard chickens.  Things proceeded quickly from there.  Shortly after our light hearted conversation she mentioned to my husband that we were getting chickens together.  Note I did not say asked or showed interest or brought up for discussion… She simply told him we were getting chickens.  It was quickly discovered that my husband was unable to look her in the eye and tell her no the way he can so quickly with me.  This was a little tidbit I picked up on and have tucked away for later ammunition or manipulation.  You know, the next time I want a cat or to acquire more children or something.

One minute we were having a casual conversation while nursing our matching baby girls in my front yard (we may be backyard chicken farmers but we are certainly front yard baby nursers) and the next minute we were scraping chicken poop off our feet after touring our first chicken farm. 

The first chicken farm was ran by the self proclaimed and very arrogant chicken man who made it his mission to make us bow at his chicken poop covered boots and proclaim that he was the all knowing chicken king and we were simply two city girls that desperately needed him and his very plain chickens if we intended on being even mildly successful.  I was fine to allow the king to lead the conversation and give us his opinions in fact form.  M however did go head to head with him on more than a few points and even suggested once that we were interested in pretty chickens.  Both of these were offensive to the king and grounds for head shaking and eye rolling but none as offensive as when she admitted she preferred to purchase her chicken at the grocery store instead of killing her own.  The only great piece of information we took away from that field trip was that this was not the right chicken supplier for us.

To be continued...