Learning To 'Chicken'.

Learning to ‘chicken’

So … that summer wore on and when closely watched, the little flock would forage the yard looking for treats and enjoying treats from our hand. The more they gather in tasty plants and bugs, the less feed you go through and the birds are all the healthier for it. Ermatrude even learned a new game. She would hop on my lap, I’d give her some meal worms from my hand and once they were gone, she would hop off, walk around to the other side of my lap and hop back … convinced that I would believe she was a totally different hen and thus get more meal worms. And y’know what? It still works every time.

They’ll eat almost anything and my wife was surprised when she broke up a heated discussion between the girls about WHO was going to get to eat the toad one of them caught. They also learned that when mommy has her shovel out, they get worms! Here is a pic of Hermione ‘helping’ my wife dig in the garden.

Apart from what you’d expect chickens to eat … they might also try:
mice
wild strawberry
Bit of paper plate
An old cigarette butt
Your shoe laces
That weird spot on your hand
Apples
Churches
Gravy
Very small rocks

And on and on. Do NOT give your chickens things they shouldn’t eat and PLEASE consult one of those high-falootin’ chicken blogs to get a comprehensive list! But, since I am touching on the topic … if you’re the sort that perfectly trims your lawn, weeds every day, and sprays around chemical pesticides … whether you have chickens or not … STOP IT! I could go on and on about the health benefits of the dandelion alone as a food source for chickens, people, and bees alike, but I won’t unless pressed into the issue. Your yard, even a small one, will be a wondrous mini ecosystem if you simply let a few native wild plants grow, mow a little less often, and STOP using chemical pesticides!

We were very much waiting for TWO IMPORTANT milestones … 1) For our first egg and 2) For Coq Au Vin to crow his first crow.

Now, you have to understand our little patch of suburban NJ. Everyone has somewhere between a quarter acre to an acre. Fairly tight little bedroom community. In my neighborhood there are elements that like to have parties into the small hours of the morning. Not raucous affairs, but some late night noise and carousing. Truthfully, nothing is over the top and I bear it with only small annoyance and my wife with a little less than small annoyance. A few fireworks are present at almost every holiday from Memorial Day through Labor Day plus a few on New Year’s Eve and the like. My wife and I are early risers, but it’s not really anything more than an annoyance.

With this in mind, she and I would often sit on our porch in the early morning watching our little flock enjoying the gathering light of day. On these mornings in the summer of 2014, my wife would gaze lovingly at Coq Au … our son … our hand-raised baby … and gleefully say “C’mon, baby … crow! Crow for mommy!” And then came the morning that he did just that. Flapped a few mighty flaps, crooked his head skyward, and exclaimed for the entire neighborhood and a strong declaration to those nursing their hangovers “FUCK-A-DOODLE-YOOOOUUUU!” A few open summer windows slammed shut and it was a proud and deeply satisfying moment for herself and I!