As my husband , Jim , and I pulled up to the farm store , I blurted out , “ You know , it ’s almost Easter , so they should have baby chicks by now . ” Without wait for a answer , I swung enter the passenger door and practically run inside . My husband ( following closely behind ) sighed audibly . I change state to see him shaking his head in frustration . “ You ’ve been verbalize about bugger off chickens ever since I met you , ” he said . “ Just go ahead and get some . ”
“ Are you serious ? ” I asked . “ Where would we put them when they get bigger ? ”
“ I do n’t even care any longer , ” he enounce . “ I ’m tired of hear you talk about them all of the time . We ’ll visualize it out . ”
He did n’t have to secernate me doubly . I bounded through the door and was immediately greet with a familiar “ chirp - chirp - chirp ” from the baby chicks .
Deep in the Heart
My fascination with chickens originated as a tot .
My older sister exact to have break me contentedly playing alongside cooing hens as they enthusiastically participated in their daily ritual of scratch , scooting and wallowing in a speckle of light soil .
From the long time of 5 , I often followed my dad around our Nebraska farm as he hauled pail of corn whiskey to feed an mixed bag of two - legged , feathered domestic fowl lie of chickens , duck and goofball , as well as an occasional turkey , guinea poultry or peacock butterfly .
Susie Kelley
It has been more than two years since my husband and I brought six fluffy , day - old chicks into our Houston home .
It was initially a kind motion from a loving husband toward his bride of three years . But it ’s become a full - time love affair with our current offbeat backyard flock of biddy . We now keep twoJersey Giants , twoRhode Island Redsand one feisty little grey - dark-brown Ameraucana .
Winning Personalities
The girls occur when my husband whistles , and he has built from scratch a adorable chicken condo complete with easily accessible nest box and a cool pee mist system for hot Texas summers . Every sunrise , we unblock them from their hencoop before their nonstop chattering wake the neighbor .
Each hen has a decided personality and a unparalleled blank space in our hearts . Zoey , one of our Jersey Giants , is always loud and cantankerous when protesting one of her sisters occupying the prefer nesting box , but she still loves to be nest .
Jan , one of the Reds , is n’t the brightest bird , but she ’s emphatically our best layer . Our other Jersey , Spot , loves to hunker low in my overlap with her head tuck neatly beneath my veracious arm as she purrs herself to sleep . Spot is the only girl we ’ve allowed to incubate nut . Her first attempt at “ mothering ” produced 10 chick , and the second lead in 12 .
Susie Kelley
That ’s how we add up to have Lil ’ Billy — our Ameraucana — the only dame from Spot ’s two clutches that we ’ve kept .
Then there ’s Baby . Often identify by my husband as being the “ smart hiss in the spate , ” she is incredibly sneaky . Whenever I inattentively go away our back terrace door ajar , she wastes no metre darting into the kitchen where she ask me to play a game of closed chain - around - the - mesa with her before permit me snatch her up and deposit her back outside . Susie Kelley
Lone Star Dramas
Having our own backyard quite a little has been filled with instant of precious delight along with instalment of unexpected drama and grief , such as the fourth dimension Lil ’ Billy disappeared one rainy October eventide .
I was in the middle of a nighttime class at the University of Houston when my married man call to say he had hail home after dark and Billy was miss . There come out to have been some sorting of a rough-and-tumble near the patio door . I rushed home , and we scrub every in of our backyard to no service .
She had merely vanished . We cry .
The next morning , my husband leave before first light . At break of the day , I walked past the patio door and I take heed Billy ’s conversant squawk . I raced outdoors to find her perch in the branch of a tree diagram richly above the roofline of our one - story home plate . What frighten her into fly up there we will never know — perhaps a hawk or unceasing pecking from one of the other little girl .
My husband ’s favorite — Gumdrop , a mellisonant - natured Silver - Laced Wyandotte and one of our originals — die during Hurricane Harvey in August 2017 . Jim divulge her scrunch beneath a bush , and he assumed she was trying to quell wry . It flex out she was bollock - bound and died short thereafter .
Again , we hollo .
Fun Times, Too
We have spent countless hr entertained by the girls ’ trick . Sometimes my husband splits firewood as they eagerly crowd around hoping to mark a stray wood ant or grub . After come home from study , he often convert his work clothes for “ chicken wearing apparel , ” snaffle a handful of cabbage and flops idly onto the hammock as the girls excitedly induce to bolt the green treat from him .
After all the lettuce has been devour , ordinarily everyone except Baby wind off . She patch up contentedly on my husband ’s stomach as he mildly sway back - and - forward enjoying a second of solitude .
This is his time to decompress , and the girls are his quiet companions after a hectic workday . I might have been the one always “ speak about getting chickens ” when we met , but he would miss them the most if we were ever forced to part with them .
This variant of Chicken Chat — reader telling their stories of chicken - keeping — come out in the September / October 2018 issue ofChickensmagazine . For a fortune for your tale to be take , email the story of your chickens in about 750 words to chickens@chickensmagazine.com ( dependent dividing line : Chicken Chat ) . Be certain to admit mellow - closure images or exposure of yourself , your chicken and/or your coop .
