"May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most dazzling view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds." – Edward Abbey
“Being an old farm boy myself, chickens coming home to roost never did make me sad; they’ve always made me glad.”– Malcolm X
Chickens are about so much more than just laying eggs. Although that’s a very tasty benefit to keeping them, they also patrol the yard for ticks, slugs, and any other insect unlucky enough to get in their way. They provide fertilizer for the grass, flowers, and the vegetable garden. And they are a very handy, non-motorized garbage disposal, taking care of most kitchen and food scraps not headed for the compost bin. Plus, watching their antics can pass as an afternoon’s entertainment very easily (especially with a tasty beverage handy). They will continue to earn their keep long after their egg-laying days are over.
Six chickens currently call the farm home: four Buff Orpingtons and two Plymouth Barred Rocks. Both are known to be cold-hardy species for the Northeast, and do well as both egg-layers and as ‘meat birds’ (which is unlikely to ever be their fate here). While I’m not opposed to eating chicken, I can’t imagine eating one of the little fluff-balls I raised. And then proceeded to name. End of story.
I've never really liked labels, I am this, I am that. But in the interest of introducing myself, I can say that I am many things: nurse, writer, photographer, poet, painter, gardener, friend, armchair philosopher, counselor, nature lover, home makeover aficionado, movie buff, practicing yogi, and aspiring world traveler. I think that's a pretty good list for now. I want to become a bigger part of the vital, creative force I feel deeply at work in the world and connect with other people who want to do the same.