Runaway Chickens

My husband and I made the move from the city to the country about 3 years ago. Neither of us knew too much about rural living, but we did our best to read up on some things and figured we'd make the most out of it.

It was a tough decision for my usually "steady" man to buy this 30 yr. old home on 8+ acres. He builds beautiful, luxurious homes for a living. Neither of us would want a home as glamorous as the ones he typically constructs, but he has always wanted to live in one he has built. Well, that is still a dream in progress; because as I stated before, my typically "steady" man announced to me just 2 months before I was due with my 3rd son that we were moving to the country! I had already gotten the nursery all situated at our old house!!! But I am usually up for any adventure so I gladly packed the house all up and, just 2 weeks before our son was born, got us all situated in the new place.

Thus began a whole new life for us. I knew right off that I wanted to raise chickens. There just seemed to be something so motherly and feminine about tending to a flock of chickens. I got books from the library on how to raise them from chicks and placed an internet order. Who knew that chicks come in the mail? Our first time brooding was a huge success! No fatalities. They were all Rhode Island Reds. I didn't know then that they tend to be feisty. Well, at that time we had converted one stall in our stables into a coop. My husband built a beautiful row of nesting box es and we chicken-wired the whole thing to keep critters out. Eventually the eggs came in abundance and we were able to sell some to our friends and family. We were horrible at butchering the roosters our first time at it, though. It was quite the experience (I'll save it for another time!). Sadly, we began to get lax about shutting the stall door at night. At that time we still didn't have any electric lights out there and it was a cold, dark walk from the house to the barn. My hubby took it upon himself to make it his job; especially after a few run-ins with some deer who were strangely not skiddish and frightened him a time or two. I was grateful as I dreaded running into the big dark barn to shut the door. Honestly, I was beginning to dread opening it in the morning too as the chickens would chase me all the way back up to the house (those feisty RIRs!). Well, it wasn't long before no one was shutting the stall door at night. Raccoons and foxes picked off a few of the chickens. We felt like such bad "parents". After that the chickens wouldn't go "home" anymore. Instead they roosted in parts of an old truck we had pieced all over the back of the garage and a few even came up closer to the house and tried nesting in our windows. Over time, they began to disappear into the woods, probably flocking up with neighboring chickens or becoming victims to more racoons. We were down to just a few hens. It was sad. One day, as I was driving home from the country grocery store, I saw the last of our pretty red hens running down the highway. Seriously! My chicken was bolting down the highway (in the gravel at the shoulder)! I didn't know if I should pull over and try to shoo her into the van or what!?! It's not like a pet dog that runs away. I just glanced in the rearview mirror and said goodbye. We ended up being such terrible country-dwellers that fist year that my chickens ran away. Truly, truly embarrassing! We can laugh about it now because we've gotten a lot better at it and our chickens like it here now but it was something quite different then!

To tell you the truth, we have wanted to give up many times since we first moved here. It is not easy! But, no one said it would be. And we now know that it wouldn't be nearly as fun or rewarding if it WERE easy. It is good, clean, fun, HARD WORK! I do have to remind my hubby when he gets overwhelmed that someday we will have three teenage sons who need a pace to tromp and play and work and this is just the place for it.

What ever became of my runaway chicken? She took up residence right smack dab in the middle of a golf course a few miles down the road... stupid chicken ... must have looked like a big red bulls-eye to the neighborhood red-tailed hawks...