12 Truths about Backyard Chickens.

They're sweet. They're fluffy. Their little “peeps” will quickly steal your heart. Honestly, how can you not become enamored with cutie-patootie little chicks, especially when they will ultimately provide fresh eggs for frittatas?

Two years ago, we took the leap and joined the backyard chicken craze, which you can read about here.

It's been an—interesting—experience.

In May, we welcomed our latest chicks: Tinkerbell (Buff Laced Polish), Sprite (White Crested Blue Polish), Willow Wisp (Blue Andalusian), and Pixie (Silver Laced Polish).

Everything went well with the newest chicks. They grew, they thrived, the kids became smitten with their newest pets. 

 

Even integrating the new girls into the existing flock went fairly smoothly.

 And then, Pixie crowed.

Yes. Crowed.

Disaster.

When we began our chicken adventure, we knew the odds. Although we ordered pullets—female chicks—the hatcheries very carefully explain on their websites that sexing is not an exact science. In fact, there's a 10% chance that your order will contain a rooster.

10%.

One in ten.

Every year since our adventure began, I've warned the kids that if one of the chicks falls into that 10% error-margin, we cannot keep a rooster.

(For those of you just joining us: we live in a subdivision. On less than an acre. With a Homeowners' Association.)

Each year, we've held our breaths—and we've been lucky.

Until now.

“Third time's a charm” apparently didn't apply to our third flock of chicks.

Truthfully, we knew before Pixie announced it. While Polish possess an unmistakable “hairdo,” Pixie's plumage appeared significantly different than his sisters' feathers as he grew. Kristen suspected Pixie's “roo-ness” before he ever uttered his practice crow.

 

As I searched the Internet, images of young Polish roosters appeared that looked just like Pixie. When I cautioned the kids that Pixie would need to leave if and when he began to crow, they began researching ideas about how we could keep him. Kristen, my animal lover, even researched surgery for roosters to remove their crow. 

My sweet, animal crazy girl lost all reason.

She also plotted to paint his nails pink, put a bow in his feathers, keep him inside the coop so the neighbors wouldn't hear his crow, and basically LIE to anyone who asked if we owned a rooster.

I must admit, I actually thought of a few of those ideas, too.

But we parents must set aside our own emotions and help our kids make good decisions. We weren't going to subject Pixie to potentially fatal surgery, embarrassing hair-bows, or pink nail polish.

And we certainly weren't going to lie. (Tempting...but no.)

Instead, I reminded the kids that if we were inconsiderate neighbors, the entire flock could be at risk. Who knew what could happen if a neighbor complained? Instead of finding a new home for Pixie, we could potentially lose all of the girls.

The kids cried harder. 

It was a fine parenting moment.

So, when I heard Pixie's first crowing attempt, my chest tightened. The second attempt was also rather pitiful—but unmistakable.

The third time sounded almost like a real rooster.

It was time to make a plan.

Truthfully, it was past time to make a plan. The plan for Pixie's theoretical home should have been in place BEFORE we added chicks to our home. After all, we're not the only people who try to re-home a rooster. I remember reading Theresa's account of re-homing her rooster on her blog, Living Homegrown. I even sent her a sympathetic message, praying that we'd never be in the same boat. Silly me.

In the excitement and emotion of selecting chicks, most of us never really properly plan. Although Kristen read more than a dozen books about chickens, we attended a seminar about raising chickens, and I spoke with several farmer friends, we learned some things the hard way.

I hope you can benefit from our experiences.

 

12 Truths about Backyard Chickens

1. Tiny Chicks = Big Chickens.

Those cute little fluff balls at the feed and seed store will grow into large eating and pooping machines. Do you have the time and space to provide a good home for them? A Rubbermaid container in your house might hold chicks for awhile, but then what? Did you check with your Homeowners' Association, city, or neighbors to make certain chickens are allowed? Check your local ordinances before those cute fluff balls follow you home.

2. Cute Coops vs. Safe Chickens

The adorable coops you've pinned on Pinterest or that you plan to order online may be darling, but will they keep out predators? Our first precious little coop that I bought online was guaranteed “raccoon-proof.” And yet, a raccoon opened two sliding latches and killed Saltine. It was horrible. Granted, our chickens are pets, so we all took it very hard. Our new Chicken Fortress is like Fort Knox for chickens. Peter constructed it from scratch, and the door handle/lock requires two hands to open it by turning the latch down. We've yet to cute-ify it—it's not Pinterest worthy. Yet. But our girls are safe, and that's what matters.

3. Free-Range Fun. For Dogs. And Hawks.

Free-range is fine and dandy, and the neighborhood dogs will thank you for their mid-afternoon snack. Supervised free-ranging is a better idea. We let the girls free-range while we're working in the garden or swimming in the pool so that we can keep them safe. Speaking of gardens...

4. Gardening with Chickens = Hungry You.

Chickens will eat your garden. It's an urban legend that chickens and lettuce will coexist. I assure you, the minute we let the girls out into the forest to free-range, they head straight for the kitchen garden, while I fuss and yell and tell them to stop eating the chard. They don't listen to me. However, they do eat the bugs in your garden. They're also great mulch movers. If you let them play in your garden, I can assure you that they will do a fine job of removing all of the mulch surrounding your plants.

5. Chickens Are Not Penguins.

Chickens fly. Yes, I know you think they don't—but they do. Not all breeds are flighty. Silkies tend to be land lovers. But boy—do your research. Just ask our neighbors, who knocked on the door one Saturday morning to inform us that our two Golden Campines, Sugar and Spice, had joined their yard sale. Mortifying. By the way, clipping a wing does not necessarily cure flighty birds. We clipped one wing on each of our Campines, as recommended, but they quickly regained their balance and continued cruising the air. If you don't have an enclosed run, research the flightiness of the breeds you want to raise before your pick up your chicks. And install bird netting to keep them contained.

6. Picky Chickies.

Some breeds like warm climates, some prefer cool. Research, research, research, and then select which breeds are appropriate for your climate. Regardless, always watch the temperature to keep your flock healthy. Provide good shelter and insulation in the winter, and keep the girls cool in the summer.

7. Mission: Impossible.

Covert chickening keeping is impossible. If your HOA doesn't allow backyard chickens, please don't assume that you can sneakily raise them. Have you ever heard the proud announcement a chicken makes when she lays an egg? It's loud. While it's not as annoying as our neighbor's hound dog that brays for hours, it's an unmistakable sound. Plus, sometimes they like to cheer each other on as the egg laying progresses. Trust me. I've done the walk of shame to the school bus stop on many occasions, pretending that I don't hear our girls' raucous party. 

Oh. Ditto for covert roosters. Just don't try it. You'll get an ulcer.

8. Don't Quit Your Day Job.

You will not get rich selling eggs. And if you think that raising chickens will be an excellent lesson in entrepreneurship for your pre-teen daughter, just realize that she will never, ever approach anyone to ask if they'd like to buy eggs because she is too shy. (Just my experience.) Friends will offer to buy eggs, but usually you'll give them away to neighbors to keep the peace when chickens show up at their yard sales. There IS a good market for free-range, organic eggs, but will your 6 backyard hens provide enough eggs for you to sell at the Farmers' Market? No, they won't.

You will, however, enjoy delicious eggs with deep, orange-yellow yolks. Now, that's rich.

Also, you will most likely buy eggs in the winter. Or when your girls molt. Or when they get stressed. As daylight shortens, hens' egg laying slows—and even stops. Yes, you can provide supplemental light to make them continue laying, or you can let their bodies takes a much needed rest, as nature intended. Studies have shown that the supplemental light can decrease the number of years a hen lays.

9. How Organic Are Your Eggs?

We all want organic eggs, but organic chicken feed is tricky to find, plus it's pricey. Our local feed and seed doesn't carry organic feed, and I haven't found it anywhere in our area. A permaculture group I belong to is working to find a supplier, but until then, our girls get Layena, plus organic fruit, veggies, and free-range goodies. I'll always prefer our eggs over organic store-bought eggs any day, because I know we have happy, healthy hens.

10. There are no chicken-friendly hotels. (If you find one, please let me know.)

Leaving for a quick weekend get-away just got a little trickier. While it's pretty easy to ask a friend or pet sitting service to check in on your pooches, not many people are as enamored with chicken-sitting. Really, it's not difficult, it's just...different. If you find a friend who will watch your chickens, you've found a true friend. Make sure to bring your friend a present from your trip—and, of course, reward your chicken-sitter with some eggs.

11. Chicken Retirement.

Chickens typically lay well for about 3-5 years. Then what? What's your exit strategy? They can live another 5, 10, even 15 years. It's important to have a plan. Our girls will have their home here always, and when they stop laying—they'll live out their old age being our pampered pets, just as they are now. But what will you do? Will your chickens be pets, or will they become dinner? It's not easy to find homes for your non-laying chickens. There's no such thing as a chicken retirement home, so make certain you have an exit strategy.

12. Cock-a-doodle-do Party Crashers.

Roosters happen. What will you do? We were VERY lucky. A woman that works for Peter raises chickens on her land in the country, and she's just as crazy about them as Kristen. After checking into several issues (are there other roosters that might attack Pixie? Will he be inside at night? How safe is the coop?), we all agreed that Sandy's farm would be the perfect place for Pixie. Plus, lucky Pixie—he has 50 ladies to woo! Off he went to live with Sandy. The kids were thrilled, knowing that they could visit Pixie and get updates on him. I'm thrilled, because I can finally go outside again, without fear of being accosted by our neighbors. Peter is thrilled, because I've stopped stressing and obsessing about what we should do with a rooster. And apparently, Pixie is thrilled, because he's enamored with a black bantam lady-friend. Go, Pixie!

But we were lucky. Do you know a farmer? Have you asked that friend with land if he would be willing to take in a rooster, should you fall into the 10%? I can assure you, there aren't many people willing to take in a rooster. Kristen's horseback riding trainer laughed at me when I asked, then realized I was serious.

She suddenly found a stall to muck out.

So please, for your sanity, for your kids' emotional well-being, for the health and safety of your new fluffy babies--make a plan.

13. OK, It's a Baker's Dozen of Truths.

Even with the raccoons, the roosters, and the escape artists, chickens ARE fabulous. Our kids learn the responsibility of caring for their pets, rarely griping when they tend chickens before breakfast. With backyard chickens, you can cancel your cable, because there's nothing as entertaining on TV. We spend a lot of time amusing ourselves, laughing at our silly girls.

 

We love our chickens, and we thought we were well prepared. But raising chickens is a constant learning process. The chicken blogs, Facebook pages, and magazines sometimes sugar-coat the reality of chicken-owning. Cute coops, fluffy chicks, funny pictures, they're all lovely. And it IS fun.

Honestly.

But like with any living animal, you need to be prepared. 

You might just find yourself in the 10%.

Good luck!

XOXO ~

Julie

Prepping for Peeps (Or What to Expect When You're Expecting Chicks!)

(Oh, my poor, neglected little blog. How I've missed our quiet mornings and late nights, reminiscing about the crazy antics of the Adolf family. Soon, soon, we will again enjoy regular dates. I promise.)

Like any gardener knows, spring is a busy time. As any parent knows, spring is an insanely hectic time. Now, factor in a nursery business, plus a new garden addition and upcoming garden/farm tour, three kids and their myriad activities, school commitments...and my favorite season is gone in a blink of an eye.

Honestly, what happened to April? Helloooo? April? Where did you go?

I've been a bit sentimental about the passage of time lately. April is also the birthday month for Chicken Mama and Mikey. Truly, my babies are growing into independent young people too quickly. Just six months ago, Kristen still looked like a little girl, but now she's turned into a pre-teen, with long, long legs and sassy, cute outfits. 
 

(My sanity saver is that she's still climbing trees in her sassy outfits. And she just ripped one of those sassy shirts this afternoon while stuck on a branch. Yeesh.)

Plus, of course, she talks about chickens non-stop. I'm hopeful this trait will continue through her teen years, as the incessant chicken-chatter may deter the boys.

Honestly. The girl talks about chickens in her sleep.

I'm not kidding.

(She has been known to bark in her sleep, too.)

So, because I'm a firm believer in keeping kids busy with their interests so that they can't get into trouble, Chicken Mama is now a member of the 4-H Poultry Project.

She's beyond excited!

The 4-H Poultry Project is a terrific program developed for kids to teach them how to raise and care for a small flock of chickens. The 4-Hers raise day-old chicks to 24+ weeks for egg production. Then, at the end of the 24-week time period, the student selects his or her best pullet to be shown in competitions. Integral to the program is a project book, where the 4-Her records important information learned while caring for the flock.

Frankly, I think there should be an adult version of the 4-H program for all of the backyard chicken enthusiasts. While it's easy to impulsively stop in your local feed and seed during “Chick Days” and pick up a few fluffy lovelies, there's much to learn for the first-time chicken-owner.

Chicken Mama, of course, is an expert after raising her first flock of girls. She read more than a dozen books on raising chickens, pounces on Chicken magazine at Barnes & Noble, and is a constant member on the BackyardChickens.com forum (with my supervision, of course.) 

In fact, she was a guest panelist at our local “Green Screen” showing of Mad City Chickens, a movie featuring individuals who raise chickens within city limits. My little semi-shy girlie introduced the audience to Saltine, one of her new pullets, and answered questions from chicken-owner wannabes.

I was a proud mommy. 

And—I was amazed at the number of people who turned out to talk chickens! Who knew? Every seat was (eventually) filled.

Much like a Toddlers and Tiaras' mother, Kristen is prepping her new babies—Saltine, Sugar and Spice--for shows, one of the primary reasons she wanted to join 4-H. Among the materials she received from Clemson Extension as part of her 4-H kit is a guide to Poultry Showmanship.

But rather than focus on the showmanship aspect of chick rearing, I thought I'd share some of the more basic requirements: 

“What to Expect When You're Expecting” chickens.

Before becoming a chicken owner, consider:

What type of chicken will you raise?

Do you want eggs? Plan to have your chicken for Sunday dinner? Most backyard chicken enthusiasts opt for egg production. Still, depending on your needs, there are four types of chickens from which to choose:

Layers

These are your good egg-producing girls. The most popular and prolific layer is the Single Comb White Leghorn (ours is named Meggy.) That girl can lay some eggs—about one per day! However, there are numerous varieties to choose from, with our Ameraucanas producing the beautiful greenish-blue “Easter eggs.”

Fun fact: did you know that the color of the hen's earlobe will help you determine what color egg she will lay? A white lobe indicates a white egg layer, while a red-lobed girl will lay brown or colored eggs. (Now, you can astound your friends with chicken trivia!)

Meat Birds

Also known as “broilers” or “fryers.” Enough said. We don't raise those.

Dual Purpose

Varieties that are good for both egg laying and Sunday dinner.

Fancy (exhibition)

Personally, I adore these fluffy, frilly chickens! Feather pattern, comb types, skin color, plumage—these are the prima donnas of the chicken world, raised for beauty more than practicality. Bantams are about 1/3 the size of a standard chicken and are very popular in this category.

Once you determine what type of chicken you want to raise, the varieties are seemingly endless. 

Do you live in an extremely warm climate? Do you want birds that lay well so you can start a small egg selling business? Are you looking for a sweet pet for the kids? Kristen selected her girls by researching the various breeds she liked, then determining which ones had the attributes she wanted.

You can find information about breeds here. And, to make life even easier—do you know there's a “Pickin' Chicken” app offered by Mother Earth News?

Once you've selected your breeds, you need to determine where to find these perfect chicks. Mail order is very popular—but hatcheries typically require a minimum order of 25. A local breeder is ideal—but if you want only pullets (female chicks), make sure that breeder can determine the sex...which is no easy task. A few websites offer small orders due to the popularity of pet chickens.

We chose to use the resources of our local feed and seed. They order from the big hatcheries, and Kristen could select the breeds she wanted, with 98% confidence that they are pullets. (Please oh please oh please don't let us fall into that 2%!)

Honestly, can you imagine if one turns out to be a rooster?

Drama and trauma.

Home Sweet Home.

Your babies' first home is very important. During the chicks' early growth phase, they can't maintain proper body temperature without supplemental heat. They need a place that's warm, secure from drafts and predators.

They need a brooder.

A brooder can be as simple as a cardboard box with a cover and lightbulb. Our brooder is an old dwarf rabbit cage with a heat lamp attached to the top.

Temperature is critical during chick days. The Small Flock Manual provided by Clemson 4-H provides the following guidelines:

Age of Birds     Temperature

1 day                95 degrees

7 days              90 degrees

14 days            85 degrees

21 days            80 degrees

28 days            75 degrees

35 days            70 degrees

If your chicks are huddled together close to the light, it's an indication that the brooder isn't warm enough. Likewise, if they are at the far end of the brooder, away from the lamp—they may be too warm. Keep an eye on the temperature and adjust the height of your heat lamp as needed.

In addition to the heat lamp, you'll need to cover the entire floor of the brooder with litter, approximately four inches deep. Litter can be wood shavings, sawdust, peanut hulls, or pine straw. We use wood shavings, which then go into the compost pile.

Another benefit of chickens—a boost to the compost!

Meal time

...is all of the time. Make sure your chicks have food and water available at all times. The chick's body is more than 50% water, and it needs water for all body functions. Provide two, one-gallon water fountains for 50 chicks. Keep the water clean at all times. We have a smaller waterer, which is approximately a liter for three chicks—but which is cleaned and filled often.

Likewise, chicks grow quickly—and they need continuous access to food. 

In just two weeks, Saltine went from this...

...to this:

...the awkward teenage phase, where chickens show their true relationship to dinosaurs.

(And yes. That is a teddy bear in the brooder. Chicken Mama gave it to Saltine when she was in the brooder alone, before her sisters arrived. She was afraid she would be lonely.)

Begin by offering your chicks starter chick feed, which we buy at our feed and seed store. Depending on the number of chicks you raise, there are different feeder options. Ours is a simple metal, circular feeder with a lid and open feeding stations. (The lid helps prevent the chicks from using their feeder as a litter box.)

And—that's it! Well, at least for now. You're ready to welcome the arrival of your new babies!

(Later, we'll talk about the permanent coop and introducing the chickens to their new outdoor home.)

For now, enjoy your little peeps. Remember—the more that you handle them, the more tame they will become.

Just ask Chicken Mama.

Enjoy your babies--they grow so quickly. 

XO ~

Julie

Life Lessons.

We lost Salt this weekend.

When we decided to add chickens to our menagerie, I knew the risks. We live in a subdivision, but we also live in a forest. A river borders our property. And we've always loved spying wildlife in our backyard. Deer. Possums. Squirrels.

Raccoons.

Although the girls free-range in a protected area in our backyard, we lock them away in the coop at night to keep them safe.

After all, these are Kiki's babies.

Who knew how sly a raccoon could be—or how vicious. Not only did it open two latches, causing the girls to scatter into the dark at 3 a.m.--it refused to give up Salt, hissing at me and standing its ground while I yelled at it and tried to make it run. It finally, finally left the area when I shook a tarp at it—but it didn't go far. I stood watch while Peter searched for the girls.

Thankfully, they hadn't flown to the forest, and within an hour—we had them all safely tucked away. They were nervous but unharmed.

Except poor Salt.

We were hopeful, though.

At 5:30 a.m., our wonderful vet met my girlie and me at the clinic while Peter stood guard in case the raccoon returned.

Dr. Hurlbert examined Salt, explained the extent of her injuries, and discussed what she might do, all while being as gentle as possible to my devastated girl. She explained that the damage to Salt's beak and her back wounds would require surgery, and even then—there was no guarantee. Best case scenario—we would need to tube feed her until her beak healed. She also worried that the bacteria from the raccoon could make Salt septic.

We asked her to try her best, and left Salt in her care.

I know what you're thinking.

It's a chicken, for goodness sake! Who spends $400 on surgery for a chicken?

We do.

Sadly, Salt couldn't be saved. Her injuries were too extensive, and even if she survived, Dr. Hurlbert told me that she would be in constant pain.

I had to tell Kiki.

My poor, sweet chicken mama.

When I picked up Salt from Dr. Hurlbert's office, they had this for Kiki:

 

I am so thankful for our wonderful vet (who, by the way, did not charge us $400.)

Peter is frantically trying to finish the already-in-progress chicken palace—a fortress-like building that no raccoon can infiltrate.

Until then, guess who is living in our basement after dark, under house arrest?

Yes. I know. It's not a pretty sight. (Or smell.)

Our weekend tragedy makes me question what I'm teaching our children.

Yes, Kristen loves animals, and that's one reason we have so many—but the chickens, while pets, are also supposed to teach a lesson about food sources and eating locally. Obviously, we never intended to eat her chickens—but what values am I instilling in her about local food? She eats her girls' eggs. But now, after I held poor, injured Salt and tried to comfort her, I have to admit...I'm meat-adverse. Logically, I know that's crazy—locally raised, humanely treated animals live good lives until the end.

But emotionally, I'm wrecked.

We've been eating a lot of veggies over the past few days.

More than anything, the raccoon taught me a very valuable lesson:

I could never be a farmer of anything but flowers.

My heart isn't tough enough.

R.I.P. Salt. You were a well-loved chicken. Thank you for your eggs.

XO ~

Julie, who needs grief counseling over a chicken.

Psst! Have You Seen My Chicken?

Ten years ago, if someone told me I would one day own chickens, I would have questioned that person's sanity.

Five years ago, if a friend called me “earthy,” I would have been seriously offended.

Six months ago, if I knew how much pleasure chickens could bring a family, we would have gotten them sooner.

One month ago, if I knew how many egg cartons would be lining the shelves of the refrigerator, I would have begun stockpiling egg recipes.

One week ago, if I had known how loud a hen could be when she is laying an egg, I could have avoided a potential heart-attacking inducing sprint to the coop to rescue the girl from a predator (I thought.)

Yesterday, if I had known I would spend two panicked hours searching the forest and neighbors' yards for a missing hen, I would have stayed in bed.

Who knows what adventures life will provide?

And who knew that adding chickens to our menagerie would be such a rush (in mostly a good way)?

Our chicken adventure began clandestinely. We live in a subdivision. With a homeowners' association, albeit a fairly lax one. 

 

Our property is just under an acre, includes an extensive forest and backs up to a river. Our HOA doesn't have rules against chickens—it just doesn't mention chickens. Still, we feared that by asking permission, there might soon be rules incorporated into the bylaws. Plus, we have no intention of adding a rooster to the flock, processing chickens (the horror—they have names!), nor allowing them unlimited free ranging throughout the neighborhood. They free range, but within a fenced-in area on our property.

(Well, at least, most of the time. Naughty Roxanne.)

Honestly, these girls are pets. Pets with benefits. Pets who make breakfast. Pets who teach.

Kiki, our chicken mama, is learning amazing lessons. From the research she did to decide which breeds would be best for egg production to the first home she created for them—with rules decorating their box (“No pecking each other! No pooping outside the box! Bedtime is 8 p.m.”), she is an incredibly responsible chicken owner. As with any new pet, it's natural to worry that the excitement will wear off, and Mom and Dad will be relegated to chicken detail. After two dogs, two cats, two guinea pigs, a multitude of fish, a snake hidden in her tree house, as well as injured wild animals she helped nurse back to health, I didn't think we had much to fear about her losing interest. Still, at 6:15 a.m., I always feel a little sorry for Kiki, especially now that it's still dark outside when she wakes up.

Me: “Time to feed the chickens!”

Kiki: “Mmmpph...”

Honestly, I wouldn't have been a good chicken mama when I was Kristen's age. Then again, I was never chicken-obsessed like our girlie is. I often wonder what her teachers think about her chicken-brain...because she constantly thinks and talks about chickens. Her new endeavor? A chicken-based science fair project.

Oh my.

We've had a few scary moments. On the first day of school, Kiki ran to the backyard—only to have Clue, one of the Americauna hens, fly over the fence to see her chicken-mama. The problem is—our backyard is divided into “dog/kid-side” and “pool/chicken” side. We have a privacy fence surrounding the entire backyard and an iron fence that surrounds the pool within the back yard. (Crazy, I know...)

As horrific as it was for Clue to become a dog toy for a moment, we were so thankful Kristen was there—because she saved Clue. After losing many feathers and having to spend some time in a hastily erected “chicken hospital” downstairs so that she could heal, Clue is fine.

Kristen and I were traumatized, however.

By the way, do you have any idea how smelly a chicken kept in a dog kennel in a basement can be?

You don't want to experience it. I promise.

Then yesterday, when I couldn't find Roxanne...I felt ill. I know Kristen, and I knew how she would react. These girls are her babies. She's raised them from tiny fluff balls...

...through their awkward teenager phase...

...to lovely laying hens.

A missing hen would be traumatic.

Luckily, I didn't see feathers on the ground—neither in the forest (which might have indicated a hawk attack) nor in our dogs' area. The race was on to find Roxanne before Kristen got off the school bus.

For two hours, I searched the forest. The river. Looked up in trees, searched neighbors' yards. I walked up and down the forest, opened the greenhouses (because, you know, I'm sure the chicken could just open the door and lock herself in), drove through the neighborhood, calling “Roxanne! Here, chickie chickie!”

I walked down our street, shaking a bag of scratch.

Nothing.

So, I did what any mom would do: I e-mailed Michael's piano teacher, explaining that we needed to cancel his lesson because we were searching for a missing chicken.

I wonder if she's ever heard that excuse before?

Time was running out—Mikey's bus arrives 30 minutes before Kristen gets home. I grabbed his hand, told him we weren't going to piano (“YEEES!”), and took him into the forest with me to continue our search.

“I hear flapping!” Oops, sorry Mikey, that was me, shaking the feed bag.

Up and down the forest, through the neighbor's yards, and then we tried the novel idea of being still and quiet.

And then:

“BAWCK, bawck, bawck, bawck...”

Did you know how incredibly loud and distressed a chicken can become when she wants to lay an egg?

Mikey and I took off to our front yard, and there, in the woods between our yard and the neighbor's, paced Roxanne.

I was unbelievably happy to see that naughty girl.

Fortunately, our hens are extremely tame and used to cuddles and hugs. Mikey scooped her up, I gave her a handful of scratch, and he carried her back to her sisters.

With 10 minutes to spare before chicken-mama came home.

Then I collapsed.

Several things became clear to me yesterday. First, it's impossible to keep secret chickens in your backyard. I'm pretty sure our neighbors have heard our girls before, but this was the first time I was really worried about inconveniencing them. I mean, truly—what if they found a chicken in their pool or in their dog's mouth? Not a pleasant thought.

While we want to have our chickens free ranging in the area behind the pool—and we have installed a maze of string above the area to keep them contained—we obviously need to find a different solution. This isn't the first time a hen escaped, but they typically stay along the exterior of the fence, desperate to get back to their flock. Roxanne, apparently, is more adventurous.

But my clearest realization yesterday was this: I am not a farmer. I think I want a farm, but the reality of farming is far different that my idealized view. Our chickens are pets. They have names. And I was literally ill, thinking about how I would tell Kristen that one of her girls was gone.

My dad's family were real farmers. Real farmers, struggling to feed a family post-depression. My dad used to tell me that he would cheer when a chicken got loose and killed by a car, because then they could have fried chicken for dinner.

Have I mentioned that we've been unable to eat roasted chicken—or any chicken with bones—since we acquired the girls?

I'm a farmer impostor.

Still, the benefits of our girls outweigh the stress of yesterday. The first time Kristen found eggs in the nesting box was like Christmas and her birthday wrapped into one. She came running up the stairs, yelling for me, trembling. I thought something terrible happened to the girls.

But no. The first two eggs! Such a proud chicken mama!

Kristen shared her first eggs with Peter...

...cracked and cooked into scrambled eggs all by herself. She was a very proud girl. (And I was a very proud mom.)

Today, our girls are feasting on pumpkins. I'm hoping the post-Halloween treats make them all stay close to home. I'm incredibly paranoid about escaping chickens. I don't think my heart can handle the trauma.

The girls are all laying now, with the exception of Risa. Kristen is organizing her egg business, lining up customers, with the hope of raising money for a horse. With six chickens, I'm happy to report that it will take her a very long time to raise money for a horse.

Because, somehow, I don't think we can keep a secret horse in the backyard.

XOXO ~

Julie, the chicken-chaser