For Love Of Poultry

 

by Eric Guel

A couple of years ago I would have never guessed that I'd be a chicken farmer. Alright, maybe dubbing myself a “farmer” is a bit of a stretch, but my wife, Brandi, and I got our first flock of 10 birds in July 2009, and we haven't looked back!

Our first flock consisted of nine Delaware hens and a Delaware rooster. We had been entertaining the chicken idea for a few months prior to that hot July summer day, and then suddenly we got the phone call that would change our lives forever: “Hi, Eric. This is so-and-so, my chicken-raising friend from Oklahoma is in town today and she's selling Delaware chickens for next to nothing.” We ponied up a few bucks and a few hours later we were bird owners. We didn't have a clue what to do.

On our first full day as chicken farmers we secured them in a little chicken tractor and promptly left for church. A few hours later we returned to find our little buddies panting like dogs—they had dumped their water and the mid-afternoon sun was now shining directly into their new digs. Oops! After getting all the gals (and guy) hydrated, Brandi and I regrouped and did a little research to find out how to really take care of our new livestock. Those early days were like the blind (us) leading the blind (the birds), but eventually we started to do some things right—we at least kept them all alive! And I'm sure those hot little hens were happy we got our act together.

One thing we learned quickly is that chickens are versatile! They don't need a five-star hotel to slumber in; they don't need gourmet meals prepared for them; and, unlike a dog, they don't need any loving affection. All they need is some basic care and they're ready to soar—well, perhaps not soar in a literal sense.

We also learned that it's easy (at least for us) to not get too attached to an animal that seems to be only slightly higher than an insect on the Intelligence Scale, but we still love 'em for what they are. I'm sure some people get attached to their birds, but Brandi and I are wee bit more utilitarian in our thinking. We see chickens and we see meat and eggs, period. Alright, alright, alright. We do have a bit of a soft spot for our flock's patriarch, Morning, but he's the exception that proves the rule! (That's him in the photo.)

Since our initial foray into chicken raising we've been pretty darn busy with birds on our humble little 2-acre homestead. We've built a coop, obtained a few chicken tractors, and figured out how to manage nesting boxes. We've raised Wyandotte bantams, barnies, meat birds, and even Muscovy ducks. We've seen feathered life hatch on our property, and we've woken up in the morning to find 17 dead birds after a coyote raid. We've been up and we've been down, but we've kept on going—for love of poultry.

So onward we go, and I can only imagine that we'll be raising chickens for the rest of our lives because we're, well, addicted to farm fresh meat and free-range eggs. It's only been 15 months since we bought our first flock and our chicken-raising feet are officially wet. Heck, on second thought they're not just wet, they're soaked, and we're loving every minute of it!