Chickens Are Evil Villains

I hate chickens, what a great opener huh?  I do, I really, really do, or maybe not.  Growing up we had various animals for various reason.  One of those was chickens.  My businessman dad who isn’t fond of any type of animal was so excited to bring home about fifty chicks one day.  Yeah, apparently, all he had to do was buy the feed and wahlah, they gave you something to eat the said feed (smacking head).

As 1 of 6 kids, I wasn’t impressed.  Neither were my siblings.  My dad on the other hand was thrilled and told us we would have eggs, more baby chicks and SOUP.  We rolled our eyes and went about our business but then we were informed we were going to make them a coop and clean up after them.  EWWW!

Lesson 1 – We put them out side in a small fenced area, previously the dog pen, until we could get said coop made and the hawks soaring above celebrated that they would eat fully that day.  Now we were making a coop for about 40 chicks.

Lesson 2 – We put a lid on the temporary coop and went to bed.  The next morning something had dug under it and we were now making a coop for about 30 chicks.

Just like that in one day we were down 20 chicks.  I can’t say at that age I was disappointed, I felt a little bad but we had been taught the food chain at school and I just saw it happen.  We finally got the coop made and put the stinky, smelly, fowl in their coop, which lead to Lesson #3.

Lesson 3 – Chickens are mean and aggressive towards one another.  They pick the weakest link and eliminate it.  *sigh*  We now had a coop of about 25 chicks.

There is not one of us kids who liked the chickens.  They were mean and pecked us when we tried to clean the coop, feed them, or give them water.  As soon as we entered their domain they headed for our legs.

One Sunday, my dad told my mom he didn’t feel up to going to church.  This was unusual because church happened every Sunday at my house unless you were dead, dying AND in the hospital.  When we got home it was pure carnage.  My mom was livid.  She was screaming at my dad who had chopped all their heads off and just dropped them (This did make me feel bad for the chickens because, my dad wasn’t what I would call great with the hatchet).  We looked at the mess in disgust and refused to go near the back yard.

The next day getting off the school bus I came home to a house of feathers.  My parents had plucked the flockers, gutted them and had them in the big chest freezer.  The smell, omg it was bad and there was no way I would eat one of those things.  As time went on my mom and my dad ate those chickens and us kids ate none.

Oh I almost forgot, we never got one egg.  Not one.  Yes, they were hens!

Lesson 4 – Never ever will I have chickens…

And then I had son that wants to be a farmer.  Stay tuned for We Have Flockers!