This month the girls turn one year old and I can happily say it has been fun and fabulous to discover that I have a genuine affinity for raising chickens. From the time they arrived I have enjoyed watching them explore their surroundings, giggling at their awkwardness, and surprised how smart and not so smart they can be. Sadly, we lost 2 girls early on to a hawk… (moment of silence) but we have yet to loose one to Harriet. It’s been close on a few occasions but the chickens have learned to scatter when Keith or I scream, “HARRIET! NO CHICKENS!!” As they transitioned from baby chick to full-grown fat and fluffy chicken, I did take notice of a bossy one among the flock. She pushed her way to the front of whatever line was forming, pecking a few ladies along the way. Then she started “cock-a-doodle-dooing” which I thought was quite strange, but not completely unheard of. Then her feathers started to change from the other hens bringing some serious gender identification issues. I referenced my nightstand copy of “Storey’s Guide to Raising Chickens” and learned that this does in fact happen and should rectify itself after the first molt. I shared my newfound wisdom with my neighbor and long-time chicken keeper, Jonathan, to which he promptly announced “Zsa, Zsa”, he calls me that sometimes, “That is a rooster!” And so it is. Given my blessing to become anything he/she wants to be, Red, has grown up into a proper looking rooster and does a fine job of keeping the ladies safe and in-line. Our little flock of 9 hens are producing 7-9 of the most delicious eggs a day and I could not be happier to add chicken raising to my list of favorite things.
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