Pacing The Cage

I love love love my chickens. I thought I'd get a few laying hens so I could have fresh eggs. I had no idea that I would become psychotically obsessed with them. All I can think about, now, is chickens. Breeding chickens. Buying eggs. Building coops and runs and planning what breeds I want. I had to go out and buy an incubator (okay, I bought two) and now I have over 50 chicks that I had to build a new coop for in the barn. There's another 50 on their way, too. I posted an ad on craigslist and within a few hours I had more responses than I had pullets. I already have claims on the chicks that haven't even arrived yet. (I ordered sexed pullets from a hatchery this time.) I guess I will be processing the roosters for dog food. (I am just not ready to eat my chickens, yet.) I love them too much. This could be the start of my eventual demise.



One of my handsome roosters. He's very sweet, not at all aggressive.


The barred rock bunch.


This is Shabutie, the stray chicken that started it all. One of the dogs brought her to me as a gift. Wasn't that sweet? Shaboots didn't think so.