On the 5th day owning a flock of hens, they ladies have become familiar with me approaching their pen. The usually silent chickens run to the fence and start clucking. Each chicken has a different style cluck and still the 5 white and 6 black chickens remain segregated among their own color. I still don’t know why they stay segregated but they’re all excited to see me. It’s 7AM in New Hampshire and the current temperature this morning is 62 degrees. They just came down from the coop and to the roaming space. The first order of business is to open their gate and let them leave the pen. One by one, 11 hens file in a single line out of the pen and all stop to wait for the rooster to leave the pen and take the lead. Hens will peck each other to be at the front of the line. This is called “the pecking order” and the hen with the most peck marks is at the bottom of the group. The rooster flaps his wings, throws up dirt with his feet to signal the hens to gather around him. They begin exploring my yard as it is a brand new wonderland of grass, bugs and dirt. They dig holes and eat everything that moves. The one year old hen likes to explore away from the group and she is always too far from the coop for my comfort but the 2 year old gals follow the rooster everywhere. If any of them get too far away, a flap of his wings and they will run to him for both protection and comfort.
After a while, some of the chickens will go back into the pen to hydrate. i have a river but chickens know better and are aware of the dangers of a river bed and the creatures that prey on small animals, especially those that can’t fly. At 7 PM, all of the chickens have gone into the coop. They sleep in the nests and up in the rafters of the coop. The rooster always sleeps in the rafters so he can look over the flock. On days that I am not comfortable with them roaming free, I stand to where the flock is between me and the coop and I walk toward the coop. Since day one, they would stand in a line and walk single file into the coop but sometimes the rooster likes to be a bit dominant and not go. I chase him around a bit and he finally hops into the cage.
The flock is certainly mine. They’re comfortable with me and trust me. I bring in fresh water each morning and fresh feed every few days. The chickens are mostly free range. Well, they are free range 60% of the day but I have commercial layer feed always available to make sure they get enough calcium for egg laying. They are on a weird schedule where they only lay in the afternoon and not in the morning. When I get home at 6PM, there are between 4-8 eggs waiting for me in the coop. Pretty great for a new flock like this. A few have been fertilized but are safe to eat if you refrigerate them within the first day.
My ladies are happy.
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There is something emotional about this new experience of owning my own hens and raising them on my property and feeding them by hand. This goes beyond the simplistic nature of having a pet. Chickens are my pets and yet they’re nourishing me at the same time. Growing up on a farm and in the country was a very enlightening experience as a child. Since my departure from San Francisco, many people ask me how I’m dealing with life out in the countryside of New Hampshire. That’s an interesting question because, those that know me know that I never identified myself as a San Francisco Technologist. I’ve always been a farm boy from the south who went to San Francisco and for 2 years, I did. Now, I live in New Hampshire and it’s very much like my first 21 years in Florida. The more time that passes, the more San Francisco becomes just that time I lived in SF, not the home I left behind. It feels like that sometimes but the feeling remits every day.
Today, I had a breakfast that consisted of 2 eggs that I collected from the coop and maple elk sausage bought from a farm just up the road. I had to use a toothbrush to wipe the feces and dirt off the eggs before cracking them open into a skillet. The elk sausage cooked up just fine but I was concerned that the egg yolks were too yellow. It turns out that free-range eggs tend to be more yellow or orange and more filling. I absolutely believe that now. Previously, a 4 egg omelet would barely fill me up and now two eggs scrambled is just enough.
Unfortunately, I may have 8 eggs a day which means I’m giving a lot away and have donated a dozen to the local homeless shelter which collects 100 dozen a month from local farmers. I can’t quite come up with more than 2 dozen eggs a week but I’m going to do my part.
I found myself eating the scrambled eggs and looking out the window to the coop. I said thanks and, after years of saying a blessing for my food, I meant it. It makes me excited about farming again and excited to meet the farmers who made the food I’m about to eat.
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This Thursday, I met a woman selling grass fed beef. She had a conversation with me about her cows and showed me a photo. Her husband looked on in horror as she said, “This photo was taken a year ago. So, there’s a good chance the 2 pounds of beef you’re buying came from one of these cows!”
Her husband corrected her but I was excited. “That makes me happy. These are going to be terrific burgers!” I went home happy.
I’m eating more thankfully lately. I know that not everyone can do this. I know the lifestyle I’m trying out isn’t long term or easy for everyone but it’s a lesson I hope to learn and internalize and just do for the rest of my life. Thanks for reading and for all of the support in raising my own chickens. It’s exciting and I’m happy to have this opportunity.
If you ever visit me, I’ll make you eggs. :)