Some Chickens That I Used to Know

On this farm, there are chickens.  Most of my experience with chicken, thus far, comes in the form of, well, the fried type.  Never have I been near a live chicken and for good reason.

I learned within the first few days that I’m terrified of birds.  I’ve never really had to deal with any that were alive, so that inexperience turns into fear as I plop food down in their bowl and they crowd around me. 

We have chickens of all ages here, but the feisty ones are right in the middle – similar to humans, I suppose.  Hannah and I have learned that it’s all really about timing when you’re feeding them.  It’s very important to bang on the door or to have the other person hold the food bowl at the other end of the cage so that one person can go in without letting them all out.  This we learned through experience.  I once opened the door and two of them hopped right out of the cage.  Cool, we had to chase them around the goat pen and catch them – with our hands.  Terrifying.

The root of the fear is this: I just don’t know what the appropriate form of punishment is if one of them pecks me.  With a dog, bop it on the nose; with a chicken…ring it’s neck?  No.  There’s nothing.  I feel defenseless, and so I’m scared. 

 Since the discovery of my fear, Hannah has been pushing me to spend more time with them, which I do begrudgingly.  I’m getting better though I would not say that the fear is conquered. 

Chickens are scary.  They are unpredictable and there is very little you can do about it if they choose to peck you – aside from running out of the pen, which is always an option.  That sounds a bit like life.  You never know when it’s going to peck you, and there simply isn’t a form to retaliate against it when it does, so sometimes you go and nurse your wounds, but that doesn’t change the fact that you have to get back in there and feed it again tomorrow.  You can always choose to run out of the pen, but you’re going to have to go back in eventually, and the chickens are still going to be there, squawking at you more loudly than before. 

Being on this farm has been really good for me.  Dealing with these chickens has shown me how to deal with life, and I have learned to appreciate the experience despite the agony with which I hear, “Kirby, can you go check on the chickens again?”     

Really?  Again.  Y así es la vida.

Shortly after writing this blog, I had my first contact with chicken mites - tiny little critters that get on your skin and crawl around and drive you absolutely nuts.  Simply another reason to stay away from chickens.  Amen.