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I spend quite a bit of time painting my chickens, as they love to hold still, and as I listen to them rattling on I have tried to decipher exactly what it is they are saying and I think I have come up with a rough translation: "all this here is mine", and "what are you doing, can I help?"

And they ARE a big help, especially when moving heavy objects and raking leaves into piles.

Yes, chickens cause problems but the eggs are worth the trouble.  Those dark yolks, hard shells and whites that are firm, shout health.

We put an electric fence and around the roost and built another one to keep the neighbor dog from mauling our girls.

The chickens behind the fence are crowded and sometimes it stinks.  They don't get the care I think they require and since I feel guilt at not interceeding on their behalf,  I turn to philosoply.

Our first chicken came from across the fence, an escapee from cramped conditions and megar rations.  When one of my young girls was unable to lay I handed her across, destined for a good meal at last.  Sort of.  I knew they would eat her.  But these are tough economic times.  And my first chicken came from them.

Ah, life if full of choices and I am satisfied Milwaukie allows chickens.  Fifty would be a bit of a problem however on a small lot.

I can talk to the chickens, and while the advice is a bit weak, they are swell listeners.  I have saved a lot of money in therapy.

Loretta

posted 2 years, 6 months ago
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