We raise chickens. We didn’t plan to really. We fell into it through a program called the Chick Chain with a local 4H Club. Our then 9-year-old son received 25 one-day-old chicks to raise for about 4 months with the agreement he’d bring his 5 best to the local County Fair. These chicks would then be auctioned to the highest bidder, and those funds used to buy chicks the following year for the program. What we didn’t expect is our son Mo received the Reserve Grand Champion award, which meant his chickens were the 2nd best of the show.
And from that moment on we were all hooked! I’m sad to say Mo’s affection for the chickens has worn off, but me and our three Littles love to care for them and they offer me a form of therapy honestly. There is just something therapeutic about watching them interact and to learn their language. They actually DO have different clucks and calls that mean different things. Now I’m not a chicken nor do I speak chicken, but I do understand a lot of their language. I come running out the back door for instance if I hear our rooster sending out a distress call, and I now know why our grandmas used to say “Now don’t go getting your feathers all ruffled” because I’m here to tell you the ladies most definitely DO ruffle those feathers at a certain time … or rather, after a certain event involving the rooster. Continue reading