Chickens. Oh chickens. I’m an old-hat at chickens. I’ve been raising chickens for five years now. My first four I started in a half wine barrel on my back mudroom in a rental house. From that point on—my flock has expanded and contracted. I’ve had a dozen or more breeds, a dozen or more roosters to dispatch with, and enough catastrophe to toughen me up a little (raccoons, cats, dogs—everything kills chickens).


(My first chicken)

I used to write about those adventures, you can poke around through those moments here.

The fun thing that a farm would allow is a rooster. And that would allow: naturally occurring baby chickens. Aie! I have always wanted my girls to raise little babies. I want that moment.

So, let’s pretend I get a visit from the farm fairy and I wake up, and there are a set of keys under my pillow. I’d bring over my girls that I have. I think the current count is: 2 arucanas, 1 welsummer, 2 rhode island crosses, 1 blue banty, 1 favorelle, 1 plymoth rock, 1 partridge rock, 1 black australorpe—and one other nut that I haven’t figured out, she’s flighty.

I’ll bring them.
And then in the spring, I’d buy the following to establish my new flock:

It’s A LOT of birds. More than I want.
Twenty-twelve was a rough year for birds around my mini’stead so I think I am just going to always overbuy if I want to ensure I get what I want. What’s that mean? Oh  those birds up there? Some are going to die. And if they don’t, I’ll find nice homes for them. Young, raised, pullets are easy to get rid of.

It’s also good (for you) to know that, bantam chickens are only ever sold straight-run. Apparently miniature chicken vents (chicken-holes) are just too.damn.small for any chicken sexer (yep, that’s a thing) to poke around in with any success. I expect 12 bantams = 7 boys and 6 six ladies. Pare that down to one roo, for a total of 2 roos, and I think we can call it a day. Miniature chicken dinners.

Or dog food. (I mean really, stringy chickens? Sounds like decent dog food to me.)


(Me and my first chicken.)