Chicken Love

What goes best with a little cabin in the woods and goats? Chickens of course! Ain't nothin' better than fresh eggs for Suzie Homemakin'.

Speaking from experience, chickens are one of the easier farm animals to maintain (I HAVE tasted farm life, but had to abandon it for big city life in Durango). Just don't get too attached, as these cluckers tend to die easily.

I grew fond of Gertrude, Henrietta, Etta, and Merle-Girl in the few years I had them. They would keep me company on summer lunch hours in the backyard, begging for food much the way dogs do.

Having hens only (Merle-girl and Etta pictured here), they were happy enough, but seemed to lack certain fulfillment in their chicken lives. Since no roosters were allowed within town limits, I was a pathetic substitute for Chicken Love. I'd reach out to pet them and they would get excited, crouch down, stamp their feet, and lift their tails as I'd stroke their back.

Gross, I know.

But I liked it because I could show them affection, and they liked it, well, because they were horny hens. Before you judge and accuse me of chicken bestiality, know that I had the purest of maternal feelings for my hens. Please continue casting your eyes on these words, squeamish reader, to be convinced.

One evening I came home to find Henry dead, Gerti gone, and Merle with a 7 inch gash in her back (I hadn't acquired Etta yet). The neighbor's husky dog had jumped my fence and had a violent play session with my girls, leaving one dead, one mutilated and taking the third one To Go.

Merle was hiding behind a bush, her usually beady eyes listless and in shock. I could see she would live, but needed to be sewn up before she got infected. I contemplated taking her to my very expensive veterinarian, but didn't want to pay the chicken emergency room charges (for gosh sake).

So I did it myself. I put her in my deep kitchen sink (she was quietly traumatized and didn't mind), proceeded to clean and disinfect her wound, and ran a big needle with thick thread through her back (9 stitches all together). I'd compare it to preparing a rubbed turkey for thanksgiving dinner, plus feathers.

She lived two more healthy years and laid eggs for the rest of her life. Sure as shootin', whenever I'd enter the yard, she'd still run over for Chicken Love.

Little Cabin in the Woods

I'm on it. Everyone else is. So here begins the beginning of my blog career...

My intent is to use this space to and keep in sight and share my ambitions of goat ownership. I love goats. I want at least three. But before I can delve into the pleasures of bucolic bliss, I have a few steps to ascend:

1. Get some land.
2. Get the Goat Husbandry Particulars (GHP).
3. Have a sedentary enough lifestyle to be a responsible goat owner.

So, I'm thinking this will take a few years to accomplish because of the following obstacles:

1. Land in near Durango, CO (my current locale) is very expensive
2. I'm goat-ignorant (I just know I want goats with a deep burning desire, something akin to what a mother must feel for her unborn child)
3. I still want to get out and see some of the world

As I work my way toward pastoral possession, I'll be documenting my journey and lessons learned. Here are a few to get started:

Lesson 1: The Lost Language

Initial GHP research: A goat's latin or scientific name is Carpra aegagrus.

Not very important, but since I minored in biology, I though it relevant to include so as to get some use out of that degree.

There are many breeds of goats, but I mostly want one to pull a small cart around the yard, perhaps giving milk for cheese in a seasonal fashion (that means we'll have baby goats too!!). I'll be researching goat types in future blogs (if that isn't incentive to stay tuned, I don't know what is).

Lesson 2: Refrain from Goat Envy

My sister got her ears pierced when I was 7. She was 12, the acceptable age for being pierced according to my resolute mother. That period of longing in my life left an indelible mark on my psyche that I am still trying to get over. So, just because your sister has two cute pygmy goats now doesn't make her more beautiful or grownup than you. When you are her age, you can have goats too.

Lesson 3: Use your free time wisely

Third and final lesson for the day is the one I really want to drive home- Not having goats allows for ample opportunity to play. Something I should have kept in mind before I got my ears pierced, because the trouble with earrings is they weigh your ears down.

Or something like that.