2022 - The year of the Chicken
(with apologies to those for whom this is The Year of the Tiger…)
We had been discussing getting chickens since our little dog died in the first year of the pandemic. I started looking and chicken coop plans, trying to find something that would fit in the space we had in our suburban backyard. It was all a little overwhelming for a couple that is better at software than hardware (me - fiber, yarn, fabric; him - computer). We discussed this with our friend Pat who has chickens and muscovies and rabbits on her much larger property.
In July Pat gave us a heads up. She knew a couple who were moving and needed to sell their small flock and coop. Miraculously, the long narrow coop was a perfect fit for the side of our yard. So we sealed the deal and took ownership of the coop and six chickens in August.
New American Gothic.
In the book “Make the Bread, Buy the Butter” (highly recommended!), author Jennifer Reese shares her experience with egg-laying chickens. Her husband pencils out the cost per dozen of her home grown eggs versus purchased organic eggs from free-range chickens. Doesn’t matter - they’re her chickens and she loves them. Same here, Jennifer, same here. There is something incredibly satisfying about a carton of mixed size and color eggs from chickens with whom you have a relationship.
Eggs from Rocky, Dot, Bunny, Cluck and Clack (the Scratch-It Sisters), and HeiHei.
I think originally my husband agreed to the chickens just to indulge me, but he became quite fond of them, and spends quality time with them each day feeding them their favorite treat of dried worms.
A man and his chickens.
I can even watch the chickens from my loom while I weave. The problem is that they can also see me, and will let me know that they are staraaaaving and deserve some treats - greens from the garden, or grain, or their favorite meal worms. (They aren’t starving - they have the best quality organic layer feed money can buy.)
A loom with a view.
Every year we buy just one new Christmas ornament. This year it was a flock for our nativity. Were there chickens present at the birth of Jesus? I certainly hope so. Indeed, the grown-up Jesus compared himself to a mothering hen at one point…
“What is this small human in our nesting box?”
“How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings...”
