With a cluck cluck here and a cluck cluck there….

Thanks everyone for all your dear comments and excitement.  When I fell off of blog land three months ago I was such a different women.  Now, I’m not only knocked up but as I mentioned before—we have chickens!  Have you considered it?  We are, sort of.

Marisa of Backyard Farming  moved from her backyard farm to an apartment.   They’re still searching for their one acre with animal rights and so I asked to baby sit her chickens… 

It was selfish really

1.  Starting out with established layers would give us eggs, while figuring out if were were up to chicken ownership.

2. Temporary was the only way James Mair would agree to it.  

“You got chickens? (sputter sputter chuckle chuckle)”  It’s the response we hear every time. 

James’ best return is, “You should be asking us why you don’t have chickens.”  

So far the fun is naming them: Henrietta, Peck, Robot, Crack-a-lack-a-dack-a, and Matilda, gathering the eggs, and capturing escaped chickens and tossing them back into the the coop.  It’s a little country and a little shanty town and we’re still undecided as to whether they’re permanent.  James has made a couple of modifications to the coop.  He added a cool nesting box and a side door for food and water. 

As far as the universal sound all chickens make from the Old McDonald song, cluck cluck.  I haven’t heard a cluck yet.  When we come out with scraps or cold oatmeal, they whine or beg.  The sound drives James crazy.  In the mornings, or whenever, when they’re working on eggs, from what I can tell the other girls cheer on the one laying.  Chicken doulas if you will.  One morning I thought I heard children crying.  It was the chickens.  Marisa is now telling me it’s an adoption/foster program.   Meet Henrietta…  Oh so much more to come….