Chicks and Hope, Anyway

       I lifted one of the chicks and plopped it down into the brown hands of the little boy.

       He gasped. "Oh!" Took in a breath. Stilled. Said again, "Oh."

       This ten-year-old had been following me around for half an hour, filled with questions that he barely heard the answers to, curious but cautious, and roving non-stop.

       I was showing him our new baby chicks.

       During this spring and summer, while COVID-19 ravaged the world, our flock went from eighteen chickens to six. Coyotes or foxes had taken a daily toll. This is the price we pay for letting the chickens range freely around our yard and grounds: they become prey to the local food chain.

       Our six chickens were only laying two or three eggs a day, barely enough for us, much less our Airbnb guests. Our reliable, standard food resource was threatened, adding to my fears of  apocalyptic disaster.

       Finally, my partner ordered six chickens from a mail order catalogue. They arrived in a cardboard box with wire-covered holes and small plastic cups inside for food and water – watched over by the post office employees! The next week, we learned that a local farm store had day-old chicks, so Partner went shopping and returned with twelve very tiny, fluffy, cute chicken babies.

       One of these chicks is what I handed to the little boy.

       "Put your hand under its feet so it doesn't fall," I told him. "And cup your thumbs around it to help it feel safe."

       His head was tilted down so his black cap hid his dark eyes. He held completely still, staring at the tiny, fluffy, peeping life in his hands. That moment stretched out as we stood, toe to toe, silently studying a baby chick.

       Having chicks again reminds me that life continues. That despite the invisible pandemic monster outside the door, we can bring healthy little babies inside our hearts.

       Fluffy, peeping chicks and awe-struck little boys remind me to hope.

 

Chickens in Winter

We are frequently asked how our chickens fare in wintertime. Today, I'll show you.

Last week I talked about the bleak mid-winter. Here is our place covered with snow. In the far left of this photo you'll see a vague outline of a long, brown building. That is the home of our chickens.

Their home is a combination of hen house and shed. For a creature that began its life on planet earth in the jungles of South-east Asia, chickens are extraordinarily adaptable. They now live in high mountain valleys, dry deserts, and the middle of cities. However, they must be cared for at this time of year, and they must be protected from predators year-round.

On the left, is a smaller building, the hen house. Our chickens roost there at night, and return to the nesting boxes to lay their eggs during the day. We had this hen house on our previous property and moved it when we moved. It is perfectly adapted for chickens.

 

 Our hen house has two sources of heat: an oil-filled radiator, and a hanging heat lamp. These keep the temperature at least above freezing during the nights.

On the right, is a long shed that already existed when we moved here. It had probably been a calving barn for the dairy cows who lived here in the 1930-1960s, and also provided shelter for sheep. Remarkably, it is completely encased in wire, making it very secure. Chickens can't leave unless we leave the door open, and predators, such a coyotes, can't get to the chickens – again, unless we leave the door open.

 

The shed, where our chickens spend most of their day, has only solar heat. It also has a small  metal trough in one corner for free-flowing water from our artesian well. This water is about 50 degrees, so it doesn't freeze as long as it runs. Thus, our chickens always have fresh water.

Chickens love to eat seeds, insects, grains, grass, and weeds such as Kosha. The sheds are clearly surrounded by snow right now, so chickens don't have access to their favorite treats. They must be fed every day.

 As you may have noticed, our chickens don't go walking across the snow.

Occasionally, they make an attempt to seek out green pastures, as this white and red chicken did.

These two chickens returned, but they crossed to the door of the shed on old pieces of lumber, balancing like kids crossing a dangerous bridge because they didn't want to step into the snow all around them.

So chickens can survive our winters with help, but they lay fewer eggs. Whether because of the shorter days or the cold, we don't know.

As I said, chickens have managed to spread all across the globe. But … does anyone know if there are chickens in Antarctica?