In the first six months of the new profession of Motherhood, in addition to doing flashcards with the genius six month old (I was certifiably insane, please don’t judge. Or do. It’s ok, now. He only has a small twitch.) I learned to menu plan, dust baseboards and fan blades, mop and sweep almost daily, paint every room in our house (more than once, including the pink tile in the 1950’s bathroom), rearranged furniture obsessively, and unpacked all the relics I had stored from my grandparents’ house. This included more than two boxes of nesting hens. I did NOT like “kitschy displays” (Texan verbiage for "stuff you have to dust and lots of it!" The opposite of minimalism. One may also refer to them as "knick knacks") filled with colored glass nesting hens, marbled eggs, or red-checked patterns. Cow patterns made me gag, and anything “rustic” deserved to be only in a barn….and yet my kitchen was full of it, because I love my grandmother. And she loved chickens. So…. 16 years ago, my love affair with chickens began, unbeknownst to me. My chicken collection grew, much to my dismay. With each holiday or little event, I received chicken items from loved ones and acquaintances who had been to my home and assumed I must love these feathery breakfast poopers…. from lamp finials to dish towels, pot holders, and just teensy figurines of roosters and hens of all breeds, real and imagined. Thus, the chicken shelves became more full. More “kitschy.” Ugh.
Fast forward 6 years and four more kids or so; the family was looking into self-sustainability. This means producing your own groceries. I could already do veggies. But other than hunting, we had no resource for meat or eggs. SO! It was time to hit the books. I researched, went to people’s homes who had chickens, read, bought more books, checked out the entire poultry section at the library….and finally I purchased five baby chicks. One for each child. Then one died (I didn’t know that that happens a LOT) and I freaked out. Immediately, chicken math hit me, and I returned to the feed store and purchased 8 more babies. Of course. So I had an even dozen in my starter flock. That seemed fairly reasonable on two acres and a house full of toddlers and elementary aged kiddos.
Daily life then began with my coffee, and chicken therapy. Every morning, I spent time with the girls. My love and affection for chickens was deep and immediate! Turns out, my grandmother was a GENIUS. All those nesting hens and figurines, beautiful stone eggs of various types of marble in their adorable ceramic egg holders, and paper mache items, and towels, and metal signs now have SUCH meaning. I’m so grateful to be able to blame this lovely obsession on genetics - after all, I’m even named after her! Today, my flock hovers around 100 chickens.That seems fairly resonable. Chickens, for me, were the gateway animal to a full farm. We have moved from the two acres to real country living with a barn, log cabins, a pond, and 15 acres full of goats, chickens, ducks, and constant need for progress and improvement. It’s wonderful. (I mean, except when it isn’t. You know what I mean.)
My office is all things chickens, and I have a dedicated hatchery space, as becoming a hatch-aholic was also part of this process. When we discovered I could actually SPREAD chicken love with Rent The Chicken by giving chicken talks, building and delivering coops, teaching lessons to families and schools and providing the hatching experience for all of them, I knew we HAD to do it. My standard line is now: “I rent chickens to support my habit.” Everyone laughs, but it’s true. So, if you find chicken shoes (I have them), socks (I have more than one pair), hats (I have it), pictures (have them), or t-shirts (don’t have enough). Send them my way. The chicken collection always has room for more!
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