Chickens, Part One.

     Cickens are funny.  People have told me how they run to them and climb on them and mine are just a bunch of - well - chickens. They scatter from me like I have the plague although they do seem to appreciate my food offerings. They will eat from my hand if I put it I'm the brooder VERY still, but they're jumpy. 
Actually,  I should back up and include Mark's comments, because so much of the prep work was his.  My contribution was to go to TSC and buy waterers, feeders, heat lamps and bulbs, feed, bedding and so on.  Mark was the creative genius that took scrap parts and built a beautiful brooder box.  He had the box up and running a week befoer we got thte chickens. 

They really are cute the first few weeks. They're easy to pick up and hold and if they eat from your hand, they really don't peck that hard. The grandkids were thrilled to carry them around like babies and I was thrilled to let them. 

So chickens are pretty easy to take care of when they're in the brooder box. A little food each day, a little water, a little attention. And they do what chickens so naturally - grow. So within a couple weeks what I had was a bunch of funny looking gangly teen-age chickens. 

And it was time for them to come out of the brooder box. Mind you, this process only takes a couple of weeks. Fortunately I have a VERY handy husband who had, just in the nick of time, finished building the coop and chicken run. By this time I had had the birds outside a couple of times in a small temporary enclosure and they had a blast pecking around the dirt. What wasn't fun was carrying them in and out of the enclosure. I began to have some doubts. 

Our original plan was to let the chickens free range. I began to worry about how I would ever get them back into the coop at night if we did that. I mean, I know IN THEORY chickens return to the roost on their own at night, but frankly, I was a little afraid of the chickens. I mean, who likes being pecked?  

Well, obviously, as anyone who ever raised chickens knows, they actually do come home to roost at night. And about fifty thousand other times a day when they get spooked by the wind, or a passing car, or the dog waking up from his nap and stretching his legs, or the screen door opening, or by absolutely nothing at all. They are truly hysterical to watch. And I can no longer go outside barefoot, because they are fascinated with my toes. As food. But they put themselves back to bed each night and that is easy. So now they are around ten weeks and halfway to egg-laying age and so far so good. 

Their favorite hangout is at the top of the hill, but they range further afield each day. Just yesterday I came in the back, lower-level door, which was standing open, and found a chicken wandering around the family room. I had to chase her out and back up the hill. It is pretty rare to find a single chicken so far from the rest on her own. They really are flock creatures; it's funny when they all race back to the pen together for no apparent reason, and its gratifying to see them come now when I bring scrap treats out to them. It's just my toes that I need to worry about, and for that there's shoes!

It begins

          How can you go through life with a vague sense of unease that you aren't doing everything you always wanted to do, then suddenly, in your sixth decade, find yourself beginning to live that life that you hardly dared to imagine for yourself? 
          When I remarried in 2011, Mark and I talked about a simple life wherein we chased chickens, milked goats, and planted massive crops of vegetable to eat all summer and lie in for winter.  Who knew that in two short years we would be beginning that dream together?  First came the property. 

We found 4 1/2 acres in Dryden, Michigan  that were situated among rolling hills and fronted onto passable dirt roads.  We are on a corner lot (hence, Croteau's Corner) that allows access from two sides.  We are located on an electric powerline easement, and the resulting limitations on our land use are not fully known at this time.  There are open hills, two treed areas, and a small grassy area near the house.  The house itself was completed in 2006, but the owner did not spend any time decorating, improving, or otherwise working on the property.  We spent much of the fall clearing out scrb and fallen trees, raking out leaves, trimming the pines, organizing the one outbuilding (a small shed), and getting a feel for the land.  We spent nearly every night burning stuff, which is great because we love campfires and being outside in general anyway. 
         We also spent the winter planning.  I had two small goats, a quaint flock of chickens, another outbuilding complete with running water and electricity, and a 1200 square foot garden all built up in my head and ready to go by spring.  Somewhere around February we (I) realized that to do this right we needed to start out much slower than I had hoped.  Mark had already reached that conclusion, and was waiting for me to figure that out on my own (it can be a bit difficult to tell me something I don't want to hear).  So in between surfing the internet and searching the bookstores, I discovered Tractor Supply Company (TSC), my new favorite store.  I had a few heady days when a young salesman turned my head into thinking that we could, in fact, afford a goat pen, but I wasa soon back on track, 
     The limitations right now are time and money.  Mark could work on the farm, but he has to work at his job, which is not sitting at a desk pushing a pencil, but rather wrestling around blocks of stone and wheelbrrows full of mortar.  Being self-employed means he does all the drummimg up of business, running for supplies, billing, etc., and is the chief cook and bottle washer of his business.  As a school teacher, I am going great guns trying to finish out the school year in one piece.  Both of us come home tired, but Mark handles it better.  He gets out and builds chicken coops, transplants vegetation, mows the lawn, and usually has dinner going by the time I drag my sorry self home. 
     In my mind, tahe farm will only come to fruition when we retire in about ten or twelve years.  We'll slowly pick away at it (as Mark says) and by the time we retire, we'll have a full blown operation under way.  I need to get a garden going this spring, and we went ahead and bought a flock of eight chickens.  We have four  ISA browns, and four Rhode Island Reds.  We got pullets only this time around; I'm not ready to raise something I know I'm going to eat.  The chickens are funny, but they're for another blog.