Living in Community... With Chickens.

Yes, my friends.  That's right.  In addition to the 6 adults and 1 child living on the property, we now have ten feathery creatures.  I wish I could gush about how much I love those little animals...
"The way they peck so sweetly at the ground, flap their gorgeous wings, and greet you with a cluck- it's simply beautiful".  However the gushing about chickens does not come naturally to me.  I blame the gushing of their poop for my lack of love.  Poop everywhere.  All the time.  Thankfully, up to this point the chickens have been kept in their coop so the poop has been contained.  This week they are officially being promoted to free-range chickens and their poop can "nourish" our yard.

This morning I took it upon myself to be responsible and let the chickens out for the day.  The trick is to only let the older 8 chickens out of the coop and keep the 2 little chicks inside (so they don't get eaten by the cats, dogs, or children that have attempted to get them this past week).  So just close the door before the chicks run out with the older pullets, right?  Wrong.  The chicks run in the midst of the pullets out of the coop, fast as lightening.  So then I had a dilemma- "how do I get the 2 chicks back in the coop?".  Any normal human would just pick them up and place them back inside.  But remember, I think they are gross.  I don't want to touch them or get pooped on.  And I forgot to mention I am holding Asher this whole time because he is scared of being down on the ground with the chickens.  So I grab a large stick hoping to herd the chicks back inside.  Instead I just scared all the chickens into a corner where the chicks were hiding amongst the others.  Fail.  Plan B, herd all of the chickens back in the coop... then try to just herd the big ones out again.  All the chickens except the chicks went back in the coop.  Fail.  Plan C, pick up the chicks and place them in the coop through the top door while the others go out of the coop through the bottom door.  Two older chickens stayed inside, one chick escaped the coop by squeezing between the wire, and of course I had to touch the chickens.  Fail.

Luckily in the midst of this circus, my fellow commune dweller Lisa came out in the yard.  She quickly jumped in to help, after laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation.  With some discussion and more failed attempts at keeping the 2 chicks in and the rest out, I decided to put them all back in the coop.  I was not going to have those little chicks die on my watch.  So Lisa grabbed a large piece of wood, I had my stick, and we comically herded all of the chickens back in the coop... except one little chick.  Ugh.  I handed Asher to Lisa and chased that fast, little chick around until I caught it and put it back in the coop.

Besides the terrible smell, gross talons, and poop everywhere, I think I could learn to like these birds.  When they are in their coop, I feel bad for them.  I become attached to them through empathy and imagine they have elaborate thoughts, feelings, dreams for their lives.  I adore them from afar.  It's the up close and personal day to day care-taking that I am not wild about.  But I am their woman and they are my children.  Otha is back at work and eventually Josh and Merinda will take another trip to Ghana.  That leaves me with the chickens.

The coop Otha and Josh built.  Manly Men.

The men also kindly built this fence so that they chickens don't poop all over our back patio.  Thanks guys.

One day we will have fresh eggs and I will cuddle those chickens in thankfulness for feeding our family.  But for now, I will keep my distance and herd them with a stick.