We had a chicken that had injured a leg when it was a chick, so the kids, of course, had to bring it inside to keep her warm. so cute. She got a nest in a chest of drawers. I said, ok, as long as you pick up the poop, I will not abide poop.
So, they did.
And she grew bigger and her leg healed. But then, she started laying an egg every day. We had to carry her outside and make her happy to run around with the others, but she would just beg to come in at night. And she would climb on their shoulders while they were reading. She would roost there.
That's so awesome. I'm glad your kids got this experience. I used to be afraid of chickens ... roosters particularly, but also chickens in general. I really don't remember interacting with them much as a kid other than help feed/water gather eggs. This is the first time I have ever been soley responsible for a tiny flock of my own little hens, and I must say, I am having the time of my life. Our city ordinance allows for up to six hens and no roosters. My backyard is beautiful and green, because they keep it fertilized and aerated and they eat all the ticks, and grasshoppers, so I am blessed with eggs and pest control. All God's creatures are amazing, aren't they!
That six girlies rule is what we had, but roosters somehow found their way to our place. We had one beautiful white silkie bantam rooster walk miles to be with out shy little mixed-heritage hens, that is there was one Leghorn that had stopped laying (auntie), He settled in, and they all seemed very happy about it. Then, of course he had to crow about it.
Nek minit, we had the council guy come and tell us we needed a pen with a concrete bottom. I stood and argued that chickens need to scratch, and would be fine in a large enclosure, but he seemed to think we needed to hose the floor every day, I pointed out that we collected the dried, and soil-like shit from under the roosting tree occasionally, and spread it on our gardens that were full of comfrey, an apple tree, plum saplings, lots of calendula everywhere - all sorts of edible greens. All of that needed good compost - from under that tree. HE scratches his head.
There were a couple of kids running around, observing the strange man. (he jumped and freaked, because someone was idly pulling off, and munching, a comfrey flower - he thought they were poisonous - yeah nah, the kids were amused by that). I pointed at a yellow canna from the previous gardener, and said: "That one is the last poisonous plant here, and the kids all know about it". But really, re: chickens - no-one walks under that roosting tree, cos, you know: u don't walk in shit.
But to him, he was talking about 100mm of concrete. And that our chickens were seen from the road, sunning themselves (how dare they).
At the time, the thing to do, was submit to the tyranny, not fight. We were vulnerable because we had young children there, and could not have too much 'official attention'. Point being there was a sort of central government IT amalgamation policy (hairbrained management - possibly some 5-eyes database, proto-social credit score thing - they told us piblicly it was to 'reduce silos in government'). Bureaucrats were encouraged to start ringing other agencies, and then have all-sorts come askin' questions. IDK, environmental health, building ok (looks at toilet, downpipes missing)? Police? (we were fine, but still), bailiff, even LOL. u haf any parking fines boyee? Send in the social-worker-Karens type thing.
We had to stop that syndrome at the pass. God forbid, the idea of a toddler with a blackberry stained t=shirt, and face, marching around barefoot, eating flowers even, with a chicken in his arms.
It was a sad day when I brought the rooster to the local Chinese shop, who gladly took him for the pot. The rest were adopted out to a neighbor who was a councillor, and broke the six-chicken rule by having sixty. That was hard to swallow too, given the hard line we were given, and of course that household did not stand up for us, jus' clippin' the ticket re: elected status. But they took our chickens (and they had a lively little side-gig selling eggs, ,mostly a hobby though, you know. My son and I would walk to see his favorite goldie bantam girl.
I am not complaining, because petty revenge comes with its own delights. The councillor died suddenly for international travel reasons (ahem, no jab, no fab. i.e. quickie Ozzie shopping trip). The chicken-hater lost his job cause people don't like tyrants: popular disdain kinda filtered through, eventually - as in: maybe having a trouble-maker in that very public position is not great for the council's image. They didn't even make any money from fining us, because we acted so swiftly. There yas go, the fat guy that kept hauling his pants up and sniffing, managed to deprive some children of joy. How wonderful. Anyway, my kids can read bodylanguage very well now.
Again, I am grateful, because the way that interaction worked, was so against reason, or law, even, that it led me to study Public Management, and Governance, and of course - that wedges into all sorts of root-causes such as WEF, WHO, Agenda30, 'sh wy I am here, in depth.
roosters can be very frightening. They fly up, and can scratch with talons. Our rooster used to guard a concrete path, where kids basically had to sprint, to get past him.
I am so sorry you had to give them up, and especially in the face of the counsilor's own hyprocrisy. I have been blessed to have great neighbors and city council who love chickens, and some who also have chickens of their own. I hope it stays as blissful as it has been so far.
Indeed. We loved a half and half mix of soaked cracked corn and barley. But they got lots of greens and bugs too. they also loved picking over meat bones. I mean, all the fat and gristle would be hassled over.
We had a chicken that had injured a leg when it was a chick, so the kids, of course, had to bring it inside to keep her warm. so cute. She got a nest in a chest of drawers. I said, ok, as long as you pick up the poop, I will not abide poop.
So, they did.
And she grew bigger and her leg healed. But then, she started laying an egg every day. We had to carry her outside and make her happy to run around with the others, but she would just beg to come in at night. And she would climb on their shoulders while they were reading. She would roost there.
Awe...love this! 💕
That's so awesome. I'm glad your kids got this experience. I used to be afraid of chickens ... roosters particularly, but also chickens in general. I really don't remember interacting with them much as a kid other than help feed/water gather eggs. This is the first time I have ever been soley responsible for a tiny flock of my own little hens, and I must say, I am having the time of my life. Our city ordinance allows for up to six hens and no roosters. My backyard is beautiful and green, because they keep it fertilized and aerated and they eat all the ticks, and grasshoppers, so I am blessed with eggs and pest control. All God's creatures are amazing, aren't they!
That six girlies rule is what we had, but roosters somehow found their way to our place. We had one beautiful white silkie bantam rooster walk miles to be with out shy little mixed-heritage hens, that is there was one Leghorn that had stopped laying (auntie), He settled in, and they all seemed very happy about it. Then, of course he had to crow about it.
Nek minit, we had the council guy come and tell us we needed a pen with a concrete bottom. I stood and argued that chickens need to scratch, and would be fine in a large enclosure, but he seemed to think we needed to hose the floor every day, I pointed out that we collected the dried, and soil-like shit from under the roosting tree occasionally, and spread it on our gardens that were full of comfrey, an apple tree, plum saplings, lots of calendula everywhere - all sorts of edible greens. All of that needed good compost - from under that tree. HE scratches his head.
There were a couple of kids running around, observing the strange man. (he jumped and freaked, because someone was idly pulling off, and munching, a comfrey flower - he thought they were poisonous - yeah nah, the kids were amused by that). I pointed at a yellow canna from the previous gardener, and said: "That one is the last poisonous plant here, and the kids all know about it". But really, re: chickens - no-one walks under that roosting tree, cos, you know: u don't walk in shit.
But to him, he was talking about 100mm of concrete. And that our chickens were seen from the road, sunning themselves (how dare they).
At the time, the thing to do, was submit to the tyranny, not fight. We were vulnerable because we had young children there, and could not have too much 'official attention'. Point being there was a sort of central government IT amalgamation policy (hairbrained management - possibly some 5-eyes database, proto-social credit score thing - they told us piblicly it was to 'reduce silos in government'). Bureaucrats were encouraged to start ringing other agencies, and then have all-sorts come askin' questions. IDK, environmental health, building ok (looks at toilet, downpipes missing)? Police? (we were fine, but still), bailiff, even LOL. u haf any parking fines boyee? Send in the social-worker-Karens type thing.
We had to stop that syndrome at the pass. God forbid, the idea of a toddler with a blackberry stained t=shirt, and face, marching around barefoot, eating flowers even, with a chicken in his arms.
It was a sad day when I brought the rooster to the local Chinese shop, who gladly took him for the pot. The rest were adopted out to a neighbor who was a councillor, and broke the six-chicken rule by having sixty. That was hard to swallow too, given the hard line we were given, and of course that household did not stand up for us, jus' clippin' the ticket re: elected status. But they took our chickens (and they had a lively little side-gig selling eggs, ,mostly a hobby though, you know. My son and I would walk to see his favorite goldie bantam girl.
I am not complaining, because petty revenge comes with its own delights. The councillor died suddenly for international travel reasons (ahem, no jab, no fab. i.e. quickie Ozzie shopping trip). The chicken-hater lost his job cause people don't like tyrants: popular disdain kinda filtered through, eventually - as in: maybe having a trouble-maker in that very public position is not great for the council's image. They didn't even make any money from fining us, because we acted so swiftly. There yas go, the fat guy that kept hauling his pants up and sniffing, managed to deprive some children of joy. How wonderful. Anyway, my kids can read bodylanguage very well now.
Again, I am grateful, because the way that interaction worked, was so against reason, or law, even, that it led me to study Public Management, and Governance, and of course - that wedges into all sorts of root-causes such as WEF, WHO, Agenda30, 'sh wy I am here, in depth.
roosters can be very frightening. They fly up, and can scratch with talons. Our rooster used to guard a concrete path, where kids basically had to sprint, to get past him.
Anyway, it is a blissful time.
I am so sorry you had to give them up, and especially in the face of the counsilor's own hyprocrisy. I have been blessed to have great neighbors and city council who love chickens, and some who also have chickens of their own. I hope it stays as blissful as it has been so far.
Indeed. We loved a half and half mix of soaked cracked corn and barley. But they got lots of greens and bugs too. they also loved picking over meat bones. I mean, all the fat and gristle would be hassled over.
You have me SO enchanted with your story and writing style! You should write a gardening & chicken blog! 🎍🐤🐔🐓🧆
LOL I am in a different phase right now.
Yes they are!