I could be the worst chicken owner in the history of chicken owners...that is the only explanation for what has occurred at my suburban chicken compound. My poor cute birds - of the 8 of them we started with, 6 of them are lying in graves dug by their chicken mama (me). It's heartbreaking!
Looking back, I'm not sure I would have done things much differently, though. My dear husband and I have always sort of jumped straight into things without a lot of preparation, and muddled our way through until everything straightened itself out. 19 years ago, we met each other, lost our minds, threw everything else to the wind, and basically became the family we are today - no caution, no preparation (like how to kindly extricate ourselves from our current relationships), no thought. We cleaned up all the messes we made as we went along (or didn't). We've basically repeated this pattern together ever since - we randomly adopted a cat, foolishly I fell in love with a second cat, he adopted a dog with no warning, I brought home a rabbit from the vet office where I worked one day. We bought every house we had fairly impulsively, and craziest of all, we started a family accidentally.
This pattern WORKS for us. I'm a mess of a person - a whirlwind, all complicated and prone to depressive episodes as well as moments of crazy joy and rapture. He's a cozy guy - very internal and quiet with only rare fits of activity. If I put too much thought into something in advance, I lose all confidence in myself to be able to execute anything. He has the confidence, but usually not the ambition. And so, most of what we have accomplished we have begun by falling into something together (involving no previous thought, or activation of the fear factor on my part).
We've done pretty well! Our surprise wedding was beautiful, despite minimal preparation. My surprise motherhood has somehow produced three magnificent children who are so much more confident, beautiful, and smart than their mother. Our first darling pets were loving, wonderful creatures that blessed our lives. So why would we think our chicken adventure would be anything other than a success?
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When I was pregnant with Emma, I was young, depressed - having just made a decision that I couldn't even begin to rationalize or even understand (to keep the baby, to give up my dream to go to vet school, and to instantly marry my long-term boyfriend), and basically alone in my mothering adventure. My mother had died 14 years before, and I stubbornly refused to accept anyone else into her place. If I couldn't have my own mother, I wouldn't have any substitute mother. Luckily, I had no one clamoring to fill her shoes, because I would have summarily dismissed her in a heartbeat. So I was preparing to raise a baby with absolutely no instinct, no support, and no information. On top of that, my battles with depression over the years had led to my inability to maintain any of my friendships. I was left with only the few brave girls who could love me despite my inability to reach out, and my dear sisters (all of whom were not close to baby-rearing ages).
We learned how to breastfeed...just the two of us (Me + Emma) - through books and trial and error. We learned how to do everything that way, actually - and I, the woman who cried when trying to figure out what a "onesie" was, became a mother with the help of my dear baby daughter. I pieced together lots of information and learned to trust myself, a little.
I figured having chickens would be the same way. Like breastfeeding, chicken-keeping was something my grandparents and parents had not done, but for generations before that, chicken-keeping was not rare - it was passed down from family to family as a method of nourishing their children. If so many people could do it, and HAD done it, then why couldn't I?
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So, when my husband whimsically suggested that we get chickens (after reading an article in Psychology Today on a flight home from Las Vegas), of course I jumped straight in. We had a successful report card full of impulsive decisions done well. I had chicken pictures pasted in my little journal of garden inspiration from way back in 2002! We read a little on the internet, called a nearby farm and had a long conversation with the farmer, and decided to pop into the car to get ourselves some baby chicks.
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Things you should not believe when told (I have learned all of this the hard way!):
- Chickens are easy!
- Chickens will live for 8-9 years, no problem.
- You don't need to worm chickens.
- You will get used to the idea that some of them will die.
Things I have learned:
- Chickens are not easy in the dead of winter or in high summer! Think frozen waterers and the fear of them overheating...lots of worry during those times. They are also not easy when they are sick - too few resources for caring for them in suburbia (can't find a chicken vet in Southeastern Michigan to save my life...can't pay someone to help me, even if I wanted to).
- It is hard to judge a chicken's possible longevity if the farm they come from culls their birds after their 2nd laying season. Keeping chickens as "pets with egg benefits" is different from keeping them as a crop.
- There is a whole science to raising chickens - medicating them/not medicating them, giving them supplements, feeding them. If you've raised rabbits, hamsters, guinea pigs, etc. - this is harder!
- When you have hand raised your chicken, it "talks" to you, follows you around your yard, it will be very sad to say goodbye. Even if she only cost 3.50 at the start of it all.
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And so, what do I think? I think chicken-keeping is NOT for everybody. I barely think I can stand it for myself - the loss of one of my birds hurts every time. Luckily my children and husband are not as attached to the chickens as I am (with the exception of Emma); if it were as hard for them as it was for me we'd have to stop!
I'm not sure I'm ready to give it up, though...I've learned so much - chicken anatomy, how to dose cattle anti-coccidial drugs for chickens, chicken behavior - and I relish the opportunities to learn more. On top of that, I'm so attached to my little garden buddies. There is nothing like having little buddies following you around in the yard while you are working.
For now, the plan is to stick with what we've got, and what we're left with is our two strongest birds - Margaret (the boss) and Annie Lennox, her constant little shadow. February or March would be the best time to get some extra girls to grow and to add to our coop (gives enough time for the babies to grow and bond with us - who am I kidding, me - and 6 whole months outside after they get their big girl feathers to acclimate to the climate and to winter). However, we have vacation plans for April which might mean no chickens for us in March. Should something happen to Margaret and Annie Lennox in the meantime, I might be too broken up to start over! OR...I could revamp my whole regime and start anew. We'll see.
