That’s right, folks. Things were getting a little boring around here, so we took matters into our own hands. Nothing says F.U.N. like chickens, eh? Oh my gosh. It still makes me laugh. I don’t understand how these things happen.
Well, maybe I do. Saturday, Curt, [brother] Mitch, [sister] Megan, and [brother-in-law] Billy competed in an Amazing Race-style adventure race at Camp Roger. Last year, the money went towards building a huge classroom tree house. This year, all money raised goes to scholarships for kids this summer. Good times, great people. One of the events this time around was called ‘Barnyard Wrangle’ and involved herding 25 chickens into a pen. I, of course, asked what was going to happen to the chickens when the day was over and was told they were going to be released… Camp Roger style… which means left for the coyotes. Well. I figured if they were going to get eaten, they might as well come to the Farm and enjoy a couple nights of free-range bliss first. Why not. Curt, bless his heart, went right along with it.
Everything I know about raising chickens I learned from reading this book as a child. I read it again to the whole family yesterday so we could all be on the same page. Saturday night and Sunday found us internet researching for all we were worth and building a coop out of old barn wood (and I say ‘we’ because I really really helped- seriously).
[updated for the skeptics/confused/worried that we’ve lost our optimistic minds: The coop easily fits all the birds. The base is made of 2 pallets and the side walls are 3 ft. high. Yes, the roof is hinged- on both sides. Yes, they have a roost. Yes, there is a ramp for them to walk up. Yes, we feed them…free-range means they get to wander with no fences. Their in-take goes down significantly during the summer when they wander, though, ’cause they’re chompin’ on worms and bugs. We’re only half idiots here, people.]
We plan to let them wander during the day and then coop them up at night to keep them safe. Our grass is going to grow like crazy. I’ve found 2 beautiful eggs and put them in the fridge. Abe is happy as a clam…randomly scaring the feathers off them and then rolling in their poo. Curt is really good at grabbing them by the ankles and throwing them out of his garage. My Lanta. It’s going to be a funny summer.
They all have names- obviously. They won’t tell us them yet, but I suspect that will come in time. At least, I hope they open up. I’d like for this to be a friendly sort of farm. Our nieces Hailey and Marli are absolutely smitten with them and have named the rooster Peter. I hope he’s ok with that.