I had to laugh a little bit during the bird flu episode. Yes, there were signs in my local grocery store warning customers against hoarding eggs (thank God eggs did not become the new toilet paper). As people who have raised chickens off and on for the past 15 years, we were only slightly concerned. That was in part because eggs are not a significant component of our food supply but also because, hey, we get eggs every day.
At the same time, I knew we were headed for an egg deficit. Chickens, at least at our latitude, are the most productive when the weather is mild. Spring and fall are good times for production. They don't tend to move as much product during the blazing hot temps of the summer or when there is snow on the ground. And the bird flu hit during the colder months.
Plus, we lost a chicken last fall, and our remaining Rhode Island Red and two Buff Orpingtons are getting up there in years and aren't laying like they used to. So it was with an eye to the future that one fine Saturday morning, I told my wife I was off to the farm and ranch store to pick up some chicks. It's the only circumstance in which a married man can say that and not find himself in hot water.
The problem was that there were no chicks. Oh, there had been, but they were gone. I checked stores around the area: no chicks. "Come back Wednesday," they said. So I came back Wednesday. No chicks. "Come back Friday," they said. I came back Friday. No Chicks. The following week, it was rinse and repeat. No chicks. Ditto the week after that.
As it turned out, chicks were literally flying off the shelves. People were panic buying. Eggs were not the new toilet paper; chicks were. Eventually, we were able to secure four tough little Barred Rocks through other means. No, it did not involve meeting someone in an alley with a trunkload of chicks ("Whatcha need, man? Wyandottes? Leghorns? Ameracaunas? Yeah, I can hook you up, bro"). Mrs. Brown found them on social media.
Apparently, people thought they could address the egg crisis by getting chickens. That works, in theory, but I knew that once the price of eggs started going down, many of these self-reliance noobs were suddenly going to have their hands full, and I wondered how many chickens were going to end up on Facebook Marketplace. You see, getting chickens is not quite the same as buying a new microwave. You don't just get chicks on a Monday and send out invites for brunch on Sunday. Doesn't work that way, Farmer Joe.
Our four new additions are not big enough to be outside with the older chickens, and it is still too cold. So they are currently in a giant washtub in a spare bedroom with food, water, and a heat lamp. The food is a special chick formula, and I have to add vitamins to their water every day. They are too small to be outside but big enough to make a break for it if they get half a chance.
I changed their bedding yesterday and had nowhere to put them but a box. But they were jumping out and heading for freedom; every time I put one in, another would escape. For a few minutes, it was like a scene from "I Love Lucy" until I could get the box closed. The last thing you want is a chick on the loose in a room full of moving boxes and exercise equipment. You'll have to trust me on that. On top of that, we have a hunting dog who does not see the chicks as pets or future egg layers so much as hors d'oeuvres. So I had chickens going over the wall inside, with a normally sweet and docile dog on the outside who had suddenly channeled his inner Wile E. Coyote.
Once they're grown, it is not a matter of just chucking them outside and going on a mini Easter Egg hunt every day. Well, some people do that, but in an urban area, they can wander into the streets with ease. We have a neighbor who lets hers roam, and I am amazed we don't see more carcasses on the street.
Plus, living so close to a national forest, it is not uncommon for hawks to fly down looking for lunch. When I let our chickens out, I always keep one eye on the sky to watch for enemy aircraft. Years ago, we had a hawk that would search for ways into the pen. A listener suggested shooting it with a bottle rocket. My next-door neighbor probably would not have appreciated that, and killing a hawk is a good way to end up in prison.
Even grown chickens need to have their bedding changed and their coop and pen cleaned. We have a dog run that is protected from predators above and below. On top of that, they need to eat every day, and water is a big issue, especially in the winter when it freezes. Then there is the diatomaceous earth to keep them healthy and the occasional inspections to make sure they are in good shape.
After a rain, I spread pine shavings over the floor since many chickens are fine with the cold. Getting wet, on the other hand, can be disastrous for some. So I am sure that once some of these new chicken owners get a handle on how much work chickens are, they may start wishing they waited for egg prices to drop.
That said, there is nothing like fresh eggs. Almost as good as raw milk. Once you have had truly fresh food, everything else tastes like packing tape. There is nothing like seeing your wife cuddling a baby chick, and to be honest, they are a blast to watch. I've had them hop up on lawn chairs with me and settle into my lab. Seeing a chicken run across the yard with a worm in its mouth, pursued by three other chickens, practically screams for "The Benny Hill Theme."
They are smarter and more affectionate than people give them credit for, and they are pretty good hunters. Once, one of our hens seized a vole that wandered into the pen and beat it on the ground before swallowing it whole. I stood there in stunned silence, realizing I was watching "Wild Kingdom" unfold in my backyard. You can definitely tell that they are descended from dinosaurs. A good way to relax is to watch them meander around the yard looking for bugs and to listen to them contentedly cluck at one another during what could be described as chicken roundtable discussions.
Finally, there is the simple act of caring for something else. The minute you click off of this column, you will be awash in a sea of headlines about how the world is going to hell, and make no mistake, it is. But there is something about taking care of animals and stewarding something that is dependent on you that is good for the soul. As silly as it sounds, our chickens offer a little sanctuary in a world of chaos.
Plus, the eggs go great with mimosas.
