True stories from a Chicken Farmer wannabe

I perused the web, pulled all the information and after much discussion, finally decided that I want to be an urban chicken farmer. The fresh eggs, the compost for my garden, the thoughts of organic foods without pesticides (because the chickens will eat all the bugs), enthralled me. This little animal can be affectionate, resourceful, and funny, protect my garden from pests and feed me delicious wholesome eggs. Who could resist? Not I, I wanted the feeling of independence the sound of clucking in the morning, the joy of giving back to the earth and renewing my garden beds. There were a few obstacles to get through first.

Being chicken at heart myself, I had a friend check out local ordinances and found that I could have chickens in town. The joy, the rapture….. I could go ahead and get my chicks. All I had to do was convince my darling husband. Have you ever noticed when you want them (husbands) to agree it takes work? They become even more darling, you bat your eyes, you smile sweetly and if you have to, the tear can appear on the cheek at a strategic moment…….. It never fails, even though I don't believe he would ever deny me a thing. He just shakes his head and knows that he just needs to go with the flow on my feather brained ideas.

I chose the Buff Orpington: they, so the websites state, are the most affectionate chicken who can lay eggs year round and who can withstand our unpredictable Missouri winters. Wow, all that and a personality too. I had my husband go and put my order in at the local Feed store for 5 chicks. In doing this I sealed his doom. After all, he couldn't say I did this all on my own now – he paid for them. Always ladies, provide some sort of justification backup, it is just a precautionary measure that is necessary! I read the websites again and again, dreamed of the little chicken coop for my brood and waited impatiently for the call.

I wanted to be the Momma, I wanted to be the first thing that they saw when the box was opened, the bond would then be set and my chicks would love and follow me anywhere. I guess in my mind, I felt that I would be like the Pied Piper with my band of merry chicks. Maybe it's just a need to be THE MOMMA, I don't know. I waited 6 weeks, and finally received the call, my babies were in. My poor dear husband, went to get them for me. In opening the box, Neta, our nosy, into everything, Great Pyrenees shoved her head through and got there first. They now believe she's the Momma, She believes that she's the Momma and I am heartbroken, I AM NOT THE MOMMA. Our big white dog is the Momma to the little darlings, they with snuggle up with her, not me. This experience has turned our 85 pound powder puff of a dog into a protective chicken guardian. My husband was so surprised that she didn't eat them first thing that he's still in awe.

Two weeks into the brood raising, I decided to introduce the chicks to a worm; after all, they need to start eating natural things, not chick feed. This of course as with everything else that has happened, did not go as planned. I found a small worm in the garden while planting cabbage and thought in an opportune moment. I gently brushed the dirt off of Mr. Worm, apologized about his untimely death and took him to the girls. Set the worm down, the girls made a huddle looking at this thing I dumped in their midst. The worm (probably freaking from the sight of so many beaks) starting flailing away. At that moment, my chicks turned to spineless chickens and bolted for the corner of their box. Huddled together, in the corner, they all stared at the "Thing" I put in their home with an expression of chicken fear on their little faces. I terrorized them with a worm less than an inch long, that can't be good.

In the end, Mr. Worm lived for another day; the chicks are still recuperating from the trauma and might need a Chicken Whisperer to get over this event. I am depressed, my dog thinks she's the Momma, the chicks think they're dogs and I am the evil person that terrorized them all with an inch long worm. My husband thinks I'm crazy, thinks the dog is funny and my chicks are, in fact, spineless, noisy chickens.

Urban farming is proving to be more difficult that first expected. Maybe I'll try a ladybug next week…………….