*Sigh* I wrote this on Saturday, back when they were all alive. Since then three (including my dear Bowie) have been dragged off by a fox — all in one night! — but the two that remain are being safely guarded, I assure you. Anyways.
We got chickens!
Hylla (the chicken lady at Green String) has been complaining about these five young roosters for a couple weeks. They were *supposed* to be hens, but 5 out of the batch of 75 day-old chicks we got in April turned out to be boys, and they’ve been harassing the poor ladies ever since they got their combs. When you walk into the henhouse where their group lives, you see lots of bare butts and feathers absolutely everywhere. For the first time, Hylla suggested to Bob and Ross that they harvest some chickens.
She wanted them gone right away, but they’re still so small! In another few weeks, they’ll be respectably sized roosters with a heck of a lot more meat on them. So yesterday, Ross, Katrina, and I loaded them into the truck (well, really I watched while Ross and Katrina did all the work. I still haven’t gotten the hang of catching chickens) and drove them up to our house. Ross helped Chris set up a makeshift home for them, and suddenly Chris and I were the proud owners of five beautiful young roosters!
Four of them are a local hybrid (egg and meat) breed, Sonoma somethingorother. When they’re big enough, I’ll finally learn how to kill, pluck, gut, and cook a chicken. Yup, I’m planning on interrupting my 11-year stint as a vegetarian soon. Just for these guys though. I really have no interest in eating meat, but I *do* know a ton of people who do, and I have a lot of interest in supplying people with healthy, decently raised birds. The commercial poultry situation is so sickening, even with a lot of the supposedly organic and sustainable local companies. I’d like to be part of the solution to that.
Besides, living at Green String for six months changed the way I think about a lot of things. We saw a bigger part of the circle of life and death there than suburban kids like Chris and I usually do, even though it’s mainly a vegetable farm. Animals die all the time, whether they’re going to be someone’s dinner or not, and it’s a heck of a lot more useful for everyone involved if they can be dinner. And as I try more and more to only eat what’s grown locally and sustainably, and as I do real work more often, I feel less and less like I can meet my body’s needs through grains, legumes, and veggies alone. I haven’t had tofu in months! The eggs and dairy that have become a necessary part of my diet are locally and well-produced (and all the more delicious for it!), but they still have some death implicit in their production. What do you do with a hen who’s a few years old and has stopped producing? Wait until her sisters peck her to death? Or slaughter her a little earlier, throw her in the stew pot, and put her to good use? And what about the calf born to each dairy cow every year to keep her producing milk? How unsustainable (in the literal sense) would it be to to try to keep every one?
Anyways, back to our new chickens.
The other guy is a barred rock, and there’s no way we’re going to eat him anytime soon. He’s beautiful! My previous favorite rooster at Green String was a barred rock too. (See the story of his death for more on why I’m okay with killing chickens.) This guy looks a little bit like a hen, with his androgynously dinky comb, so we’ve named him Bowie. When we get hens, he’ll be the one in charge of fertilizing eggs and protecting our little ladies. But for now, he’s just the pretty one.
So we loaded them into a big cage that the previous tenants had left close (but not too close) to our house. Ross and Chris wrapped the three sides in some sheep fencing, since some of the gaps between the bars are a bit too wide. This held them for about an hour.
I went to check on the guys, and one of the little whiteys was cruising around outside the cage! I thought he must have squeezed through a gap, so I re-wrapped the sides with a roll of chicken wire I found, and resolved to catch the son of a bitch. Chris and I chased him around and around for half an hour, and when we finally got him close enough to the cage, I held the door open while Chris walked him toward it. That’s when the second rooster got out.
We tried in vain to herd them for a little while longer, and then decided to wait until it got dark for a second attempt. Chickens get so calm once it’s dark that you can pick them up easily and they’ll only cluck a little. We went back just after sunset, and one of the roosters was perched right on top of the cage — but the other one was no where in sight. We searched for the missing guy until we couldn’t see anymore (no flashlights, d’oh!), then shouted into the darkness that he was on his own, and returned to the cage.
I thought I could grab that one sitting there. He looked so peaceful! In fact, when I reached out to grab him, I was so surprised that he hadn’t reacted that I fumbled, and by the time he did start freaking out I could only grab his tail. He was flapping around like crazy, trying to run away, and I was holding onto his tail feathers. Unable to get a better hold, I let go (afterward, I realized I should have held his tail in one hand while I grabbed a leg in the other), and we lost another chicken to the night.
We did another quick walk to look for the two, and right before bed I checked for them again, but we couldn’t find them. I felt horrible for losing two-fifths of our flock within the first few hours, and was sure that between the mountain lion, bobcats, foxes, and other nocturnal predators we have prowling our woods, neither of them would survive the night.
At 5:30 this morning the sun came up, and holy CRAP were our roosters excited. Chris didn’t wake up, but I sure as hell did. I guess during the week it’ll be nice — we’re supposed to start work at 6 most days, so if we’re still in bed by the time the roosters get started, we’ll know that we’re running super late. For Saturday though? Ugh.
Luckily they calmed down quickly and I went back to sleep. Two hours later I was properly awake and went to check on them. I laughed as soon as I saw them.
The escaped roosters survived! And they came back! It looked like the two of them were visiting their brothers in jail. We’ve since let all of them out to roam for the day, figuring that they’ll come back when it gets dark and we can just let them in without having to herd and chase and catch the little bastards.
I’m looking forward to taking care of these funny little creatures, and it feels good to have animals again, even if they can be a pain in the ass. After the harvest we’re going to get a few hens so we can have our own eggs — and that’s the really exciting part. These guys are just practice.
