Chicken Network Saves The Day.

Chicken Network Saves the Day

In my last post I mentioned that herself and I have ‘kept tabs’ on some friends and acquaintances who also keep chickens … or were seriously thinking about it … for the purposes of gifting spare hens, trading stock, and getting practical advice from direct sources, rather than relying on the gurus of the interwebs. Our own little ‘chicken network’ so to speak. Little did we know we’d be using it so soon and for reasons completely unrelated to our own birds!

There are times when I feel that my wife and I over think and over analyze before taking on a project, and honestly, chickens are pretty easy to raise. So much so that they are considered a ‘gateway’ livestock amongst the homesteader types. Well … it turns out there are reasons I am glad we over think these things!

When we had purchased our first chicks, and by that time had researched every aspect we could ad nauseam, I was surprised to discover that we had to sign a form stating that they were not pets and we were required to take a minimum of a half a dozen. You can read about it in an earlier blog post. There are reasons that various towns do this! It is the height of foolishness to buy a cute baby chick as an Easter gift for a child! It is also a bad idea to attempt to keep chickens in the house, they are messy, loud, and destructive (even more so than our two cats and our pig). By requiring a purchase of a half a dozen or more and signing a form it helps reduce impulse buys. Also, there are several classifications of chicks a person can buy at the feed store in the spring. Most notably, sexed and unsexed. Also, laying hens or meat birds. You should really know what you are doing and make decisions about what kind of chickens you are going to buy before stepping in. I know it is hard to resist the peeping little fluff balls under the heat lamp, but you must not buy on impulse! Now, we have a fully functional coop and run and know what we’re doing, so if my wife came home with a couple of chicks, I would be mildly upset over the impulse, but we are equipped to deal with them.

My wife has an acquaintance in the Jersey City/Bayonne area of NJ. For those of you not familiar with this area it is a very urban section of NJ right across the river from NYC. Sure, it is houses and duplexes, but all with tiny, tiny yards if they have yards at all, close neighbors, and all the appropriate city ordinances. My wife’s friend is an animal lover with a huge heart who basically lives on her own in such a house. Although not in daily contact with my wife, she would keep up with the posts on Facebook.

My wife got a call from her one day out of the blue. She was upset and the city was going to fine her if she didn’t get rid of her chickens.

WHAT CHICKENS???

My wife called me at work and told me that her friend had eight chickens that needed a home and what could we do about it? I lovingly told her that it would have to be a discussion for when I got home. Once I arrived home I plied her with the detailed questions of what happened, what was the back story, what were her expectations, and every aspect I could consider to get ahold of the situation.

Turns out … it was something like this. Her friend had apparently wandered into a feed store in late spring. Most of the baby chicks they had were sold and only a few left … now getting onto a week old, the feed store would have to put them down. She had scooped up the eight unsexed chickens of various breeds, purchased a heat lamp and feed, and took them home. She had intended to put a small coop in her tiny, tiny yard and keep the chickens. Now, about five weeks later, she still had no coop, the chickens were four roosters and four hens, some bantam, some full size. One rooster had turned feisty so she locked him in the bathroom, and the neighbors had complained to the city so she was ordered to remove the illegal livestock. That … is the situation that befell us.

Well, upon hearing the initial story, I was reluctant to take a non-heritage bird into our flock, but figured a hen or two extra would be no matter and we’d adopt out the rest via the chicken network. But with four roosters??? If we took a hen or two for ourselves, we’d be making bad chicken math even worse. So, we made the calls, posted the pictures that her friend had sent us (beautiful birds!) and tried to convince anyone to take eight birds including FOUR ROOSTERS.

 

Nearly all of our contacts said no. They either had too many roosters, thank you very much, or lived in a town that allowed them to have chickens but no to roosters.

But then we reached out to Bruce.

I briefly described Bruce in my last post, but let me go just a little farther. As I had said, he is a tall, burly man that comes from old farming folk. Within his large, somewhat gruff appearance dwells the heart of a man truly at one with nature. He’s an animal lover, but also with the old school farm sensibilities that allow him to deal with animals on their level, rather than anthropomorphizing them into ‘little furry people’. When my wife and I had been around to visit him a season before we discussed with him the possibility that he may want to start his own flock and that we’d be glad to help. And so, when we called on him over this issue we discovered that his old beloved dog, who was of great age, had passed on and it grieved him sore. He was happy to have this new project full of life and agreed to take the birds.

We coordinated the exchange where my wife’s friend would come by with the adolescent flock and Bruce would pick them up. Once my wife’s friend saw the gentle soul of the tall man before her she knew her babies would be in good hands.

Chicken network came through, TWO friends were helped along the way, and eight young chickens had a hope of a good life on the farm. My wife and I were most pleased.

Epilogue: Bruce is also a bit of a photographer and we’ve had a chance to see the chickens grow along the way. Being from farm stock, he has his own chicken network and was able to trade one rooster for two hens that helped balance his own chicken math. We’ll check in with Bruce again a little farther down the road!

Growing Up.

Growing up

Time in the playpen under the heat lamp is that special time when new parents take pictures, obsess over the details, grandma visits, and baby chicks start feathering out, developing personalities and growing up.

 

By late April they were becoming larger, entering that awkward phase, and becoming antsy! Each day the playpen was becoming smaller and they were becoming eager to explore. By the beginning of May I was thinking on moving them to the coop, but a nervous mommy (my lovely wife) and a late spring cold snap had us keeping the girls inside until they were more than ready to face the big world outside.

Funny … it never occurred to us that the door to the spare room was too small to wheel the playpen outside to the run. We thought about bringing the girls (and Coq Au … you remember Coq Au. This is a blog about Coq Au) out there one by one. The cats were all in favor of this idea which only made herself and I all the more wary of ‘plan B’. Instead, we overrode democracy, out voted the cats, and instituted plan C. We got a large wicker laundry basket and a very large beach towel to cover it. I grabbed a nervous hen, my wife pulled back the towel, in went Ermatrude, and my wife covered the basket with the towel again. Next came Myrtle, but when she pulled back the towel, out popped Ermatrude. A few attempts, a few hens in, and it became a weird livestock version of ‘whack-a-mole’ with random little chicken heads popping out of the corners of the towel each time a hint of daylight was revealed and we had to time precisely how to pull back the towel, get a young pullet inside, and close it again before increasingly anxious chickens spilled out in all directions. This game became increasingly challenging with each addition. But, perseverance won the day and we got them into the basket. Coq Au Vin and all.

 

Out to the coop they went. We spent the day agonizing and fawning over every detail. Coq Au, although still but a young wisp of a cockerel, was already beginning to plot how to become a douche bag and how to wrest control of the situation from the obviously inferior humans (remember, we’ve dotted on him as much or more than any of the wee hens!)

 

I should note here that baby chicks are incredibly adorable. Roosters and hens are majestic in their somewhat frumpy way. But ‘teen’ pullets and cockerels are about the most awkward creatures that ever drew breath.

 

Never the less, they started showing their personalities. Hermione, the smallest hen, ran the show with the other girls. Hildegard liked to perch higher than everyone. Hortense like her ‘me’ time by herself. Myrtle could snatch and go with treats faster than anyone … bent toe and all. Coq Au Vin, in his quiet, watchful way, began to develop a sense of purpose in his black, black heart (which pumps not blood, like yours and mine, but a thick viscous oil of vitriolic hatred). He was beginning to decide that it was his personal mission to protect his girls at all costs and take utter contempt toward all things un-chicken! And he’s essentially right.

Well … so … we also noticed that they took to the habit of conducting morning meetings. It can not be told what they would discuss amongst themselves, they had a tendency to get real quiet as soon as anyone was in earshot. My wife did try to chair a couple of these morning meetings, but her authority, as recognized by the flock, was ceremonial at best and only lasted as long as treats could be distributed.

 

There would be more growing to do. And a lot of learning. The chickens had things to learn also!