Crazy Chicken Lady

   My youngest son, Alex, is calling me 'Crazy Chicken Lady' these days. (Alex is 19 going on twenty, feeling quite sure of himself! lol!)

   Problem is, I can't deny it. I love our chickens. Apparently more than I am supposed to. My poor husband doesn't understand it. I can't explain it.

   There was a portion of his young teen-hood that my hubby was a foster child on a commercial chicken farm, see. It was an egg farm. Three large chicken warehouses. He was placed there with his younger brother. My hubby was the oldest, the one with more pressure and responsibility than he should have had. I won't go into all of that. Just know that one's history affects one's opinion of some things later.

  I was actually shocked he wanted a few chickens at all. I knew some of that history. But as you can see I went along with getting chickens, but caught the chicken passion that comes with getting to know and love chickens and healthier chicken eggs. 

  He didn't count on me LIKING the chickens. Oh my. He hadn't counted on that. I thought at first he was worried I wouldn't hate the chickens enough to let go of them when one needs to go, in other words being friends with one's food is difficult when it's time to eat it, lol. 

  I remember mentioning to him that I read that some people actually bathe their chickens for various reasons. He was terrified that would be me, lol. He actually used the divorce threat if he ever saw me bathing a chicken. LOL! My! That's a bit strong! But it also made me realize that there ARE those who don't get chicken passion fever. We have to walk carefully, chicken lovers. We are in danger of being carted to the ha-ha house. One must maintain one's reputation I guess.

  I hadn't planned on becoming a chicken bather, but I do recognize there can be special occasional reasons for it, and some of you show your chickens at fairs and such. Let me comfort you, I 'get' you. But don't tell my hubby that I 'get' you. He would be horrified. You and your comments are safe on this site. It's no more weird being friends with your food, than being friends with a cat or a dog. Besides, he won't read my chicken blog anyway, lol. Not his kind of reading material. So you are quite safe to tell us all your little chicken passions and quirks on here.

  I just didn't realize the stigma attached to liking ones chickens for more than food!

  He didn't understand me going out and sitting in a plastic chair in the inner doorway of their chicken house, just being at peace and enjoying them. Nor did he like me spending time watching them out at the pen 'for fun' and relaxation. Lord help me each time I mentioned sitting INSIDE the pen in same-said plastic chair. (I never leave it there to get pooped on, or used as an escape chair for the chickens, lol). He would say, "I just don't get it! Why do you want to do that? Chickens are just nasty! They poop everywhere and then they walk in it, and lay in it..."

  He would also warn me, "You just wait until they start pecking you! Then you'll know. They're nasty and mean.

  I was always nervous about touching chickens, etc. because I was afraid of them pecking me. Not because of some bad experience, unless you count having been bit by a duck when I was a child, while at the park with my great grandmother, while I was feeding them.

  I was overcoming all of that by taking care of them and getting to know them. Good and bad. I do admit I had prejudice against roosters. I knew a scary one once. I watched him almost kill a hen once. He totally knocked her out (stunned her). He also attacked the man of the house. And he was very good to him. (He forgave the rooster for his naughtiness every time! I wanted to see the rooster taken out!) So I admit to learines concerning roosters.

  I couldn't help wonder why my husbands feelings were so strong concerning actually enjoying chicken company. But then I listened and heard a thing or two about what the chickens were like in the place where he'd worked his young little buns off.

  Number one, constantly caged chickens are cranky chickens. And they have nothing better to do than to take it out on whoever comes near them to collect their eggs.

  Number two, they were rhode island reds. Maybe not the easiest, sweetest breed around. I here some of the rhode island reds can be more aggressive than some of the other breeds.

 Number three, when you are that young you take things like that more serious and personal than when you don't have over 2000 chickens to contend with.

  Don't worry, my husband has come a long way over the last weeks. He is losing his fear, and I believe these chickens are a bridge to helping him put the past chickens in perspective. Kind of like they couldn't help how they were.

  Also I have realized that my younger son says HE hates chickens. I was surprised, but then he reminded me of something HE witnessed at a relatives house when he was around ten years old. Let's just say my son and daughter came around the corner of said relatives house and saw a yucky scene. The chickens were being butchered (none of us knew, so there was no warning whatsoever!). And that's all I will say online, thank you.

  Both of my son and daughter have had repeated nightmares of this scenario. So folks, be very careful with your kids. They are NOT adults. They are more sensitive and impressionable than we think they are. Now they are having to walk through healing of that moment. I really think Alex has improved. He is probably just afraid... and now he is getting less afraid.

Anyway, both me and my hubby can be found now enjoying the chickens. :)