A few months ago, I went from being a husband/father/freelance writer and editor to a husband/father/freelance writer and editor/chicken farmer. If you’re like millions of other folks, you may wondering why I would do such a thing and what impact it has had on me as a person.
Well, fair readers, these are valid wonderings. So why did I do it? And what’s it done to my inner self?
An adolescent me holding one of my many parakeets.
First, the first question. I did it for a few reasons. Since I was a kid, I’ve really liked birds. I’ve had a lot of pet birds, attended a handful of exotic bird shows, subscribed to Bird Talk magazine, and even pitched a story to them that was ultimately rejected (possibly because an eerily similar story ran shortly after my submission).
While I still love birds, I eventually grew tired of cleaning up after them in my house. But I still wanted birds around, so I followed the path my father-in-law and neighbors took. I got chickens!
On top of being great entertainment to watch, chickens are—unlike parakeets, green-cheeked conures, and cockatiels—utilitarian birds. They serve an immediate purpose beyond being cute. They provide edible eggs on a daily basis. Or at least they will once they start laying.
The chickens when they were just chicks hanging out in a double-wide cardboard box.
Now that we got that out of the way, let’s get to the next question burning in your brain. (By the way, you may want to stop, drop, and roll. Not too safe to have your brain on fire.) What exactly has chicken farming done to me as a person?
Thank you for asking.
Chicken farming has made me a better man. It has made me more aware of my surroundings and increased my desire to make the world a better place. And by “a better place,” I mean a place that has eight fewer rats.
That’s right. I’ve murdered at least eight rats since setting the chickens up in my backyard. Think it’s gross? Toss some chickens in your yard. If you don’t see a rat within the first three days, I’ll give you a dozen eggs. Well—I will once my chickens start laying.
The asymmetric coop that the chickens enjoy thoroughly.
In addition to taking away my fear of disposing of rat carcasses, becoming a city-dwelling chicken farmer has helped me figure out how to use hand and power tools better. Before building the chicken coop, I never completed a project without getting frustrated and throwing something to let off steam. Somehow, I didn’t mess up anything when building the coop. Granted, there isn’t a single right angle to be found on the entire structure, but I don’t really care. The chickens don’t either. In fact, a couple of them were talking to me the other day, insisting they dug the asymmetry of their abode.
And getting the coop built was just the beginning. I’ve since done a couple minor modifications, and they’ve both been relatively easy to complete.
Will the next project go this well? If it has to do with updating the chicken coop, probably. Otherwise, watch for flying tools.
