thinking about chickens

So, I said to Paul as we were falling asleep last night: I'm not sure, but I think the universe has been sending me a message about keeping chickens. Instead of just composting all that pulp from our juicer, we could feed it to our chickens and they could give us delicious eggs. That's what we do at Hope Springs: scrape our plates into a bucket that gets delivered to the chickens, and the next morning, find another platter of fresh, delicious scrambled eggs on the table. Why not do it at home? We have almost an acre of underutilized space, and a whole lot of food waste that is well, just that, wasted.

Paul wisely feigned sleep.

And today, I began my research.

I received an email from my friend, Trina, in Vermont, who assured me that I would fall in love with my chickens and that hers even scooch down for petting. I imagined my boys taking turns feeding the chickens, taking care of them, collecting their eggs. I liked that.

While shopping at Trader Joe's, (coffee, cocoa, polenta, frozen croissants, more fruit for the juicer) I helped myself to a paper cup full of decaf french roast at the sample table. I greeted the woman giving out samples of oranges, and after confirming that she was indeed well, I asked if she knew anybody who kept chickens. Turns out her late grandma, who was originally from Tennessee, brought her lifestyle with her when she moved north, and she has happy memories of playing with and feeding grandma's chickens. Less fond are her memories of grandma's rooster, who woke everybody up. We had one of those next door to us in St. Croix, so I know better than to consider getting a rooster. Besides, turns out there is a local ordinance against chickens that create a nuisance.

I found that out when I called Britt, who was identified as a chicken owner in our community. She has had them about a year, and her neighbor has, too. She was full of friendly advice, websites (like backyardchickens.com) and an invitation to visit her home and assess her chicken situation. She told me that you buy your chickens when they are a day old (in the Springtime) so that they are used to being handled by people, keeping them in a box or crate under a heat lamp until they feather out. They will mature enough to lay eggs in about six months. Britt told me how much square footage of land I need to devote to chicken living space, and explained that the chickens need both a raised coop to roost in and a covered run, to protect them from the elements and from predators. Backyard creatures we know of include squirrels, raccoons, deer, rabbits, stray cats, and occasionally an exuberant dog off leash. (The check out guy at Trader Joe's knows a woman who did the chicken keeping thing quite differently, rescuing chickens from a nearby Tyson farm, and keeping them behind her rented townhome. They all disappeared in a short period of time.)

It's funny; I've been telling my boys to put their shoes in the chicken coop, or to look for them in (or more often, near) the chicken coop ever since we moved into this house and I furnished the practically non existent mudroom cute stackable chicken coops from the Sundance catalog. This could finally be my moment, my chance to step up from faux-distressed-painted, yuppie coop to serious, backyard chicken egg farmer coop. Wow. There are chicken coop plans for sale on line, as well as pre-drilled, pre-cut kits to assemble with just a screwdriver.

Who'd a thunk it? I mean, I have been out of NYC, living here in Ohio, a loooooong time, and if you needed proof of that, well, I guess this is it, folks. Come out and see us. By next fall, I may be able to whip you up some really fresh eggs.