When we first got our chickens we let them wander on their own. Unfortunately, they usually wound up in the horse barns, so the landowners finally asked us to fence them in because they were worried about chicken poop contaminating their horses' food supply.
The chickens don’t seem to mind as their yard is plenty big for the five of them, but this time of year there is very little happening there in the way of green. Since the weather was very spring-like today I let them out to rearrange my garden beds for a bit and they were thrilled to destroy them scratch in some new territory.
The handsome man up there is our only rooster and I adore him. We got
him at a local livestock swap for $7, which I thought was a deal, but my Love
was annoyed to be paying money for a rooster, especially since we weren't even
planning to eat him. Luckily, nostalgia won out. Apparently the rooster’s coloring is what
they call "jiro" in
Anyway, our boy's name is actually Barack because this was back during the presidential race. My Love suggested Obama because the bird was so cool and collected just like the President during the debates, but I voted for Barack because that sounded more like a chicken sound. Right? ba-RACK! Right?
But it feels somehow wrong to call him either of those things so I usually just
address him as Little
Our ducks, Lucy and Ricky, didn't quite know what to think of the company, all up in their space. They are such dorks.
The chickens ignored them, as usual, and got right to work slurping up our hard-won earthworms. When we first started gardening on this site the squigglies were few and far between, but four years of soil amendments have lured them in. They're still like gold to me, though, and watching the chickens suck them up like feathered vacuum cleaners made me call time.
Recess is over, chickens.
Comments